


Perspective

by Siriusfanatic



Series: X-Men: Past, Present and Future [9]
Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spiderman - Fandom, X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, body switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-04 05:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5322986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siriusfanatic/pseuds/Siriusfanatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan and Storm are out for a quiet night on the town, when they spot a fellow superhero in trouble. Spiderman has some issues sharing the spotlight with the X-Men, causing a distraction that leads to strange consequences.<br/>The following day, our favorite X-trio find that their Canadian feral has switched consciousness with young Peter Parker, while Logan finds himself waking up in Wade Wilson's apartment.<br/>To make matters worse of course, Victor Creed is on the prowl again, a little too eager to catch up with Logan. What he finds isn't at all what he expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *based loosely on the Ultimate Spiderman episode "Freaky"
> 
> Despite the tags, this is a much lighter fic than some of my previous fics in the series, but some intense situations still occur and I want to tag accordingly.

 

 

                Logan was not typically the city dwelling type. With his heightened senses, especially his feral sense of smell and hearing; the overwhelming chaos and commotion of a place like New York City was at _best_ a hectic. But, certain things were worth bearing the sensory overload for. Like date night.

                Storm was wearing sleek white dress topped off with her leather jacket and thigh high boots. Classy, with a hard edge. Logan’s favorite. They walked hand and hand down the crowded sidewalk, having just finished their dinner at one of the city’s cloistered eateries, where they could sit in peace and talk without being overly conspicuous.

                “When you said you wanted to go out for pizza,” Ororo began as they turned the corner, away from the heaviest crowds and down a narrower side street from the shop. “I didn’t think you meant you wanted to come all the way into the city.” She was smiling as she spoke, surprised but enjoying his spontaneity. Logan was creature of habit, whom was sometimes hard to nudge out of his comfort zones. The unexpected outing had been a pleasant surprise.

                “Well, I admit, it wasn’t what I first had in mind but, there was something I wanted to pick up and I didn’t want to make it too obvious…” he reached into the pocket of his jacket and produced a pair of tickets, which he handed her. “I figured if we were gonna do pizza and movie, might as well do the classy version, eh?”

                Storm looked on in surprise and then grinned brightly at her partner. “Broadway! Really? I never figured you for the type…”

                Logan put his arm around the woman’s middle and drew her tall form in a little closer to him as they walked, not minding that she could practically tuck the shorter man under her arm in doing so. “Good to know I can still surprise you.”

                “You surprise me every day.” she answered, leaning down to kiss him as they paused on the street corner under the pool of light. “But, I can’t help but notice there’s only two tickets here. What about Remy?”

                “Me and the Cajun already talked it over, he’s not much for the song and dance routine unless he can be doing some of the actual dancin’. And drinking.” Logan answered. “Besides, I don’t think that cold he caught is gonna be lettin’ up in time for the show anyhow.”

                Storm nodded and looked down at the pizza box in her hand, “Well, I’m sure he’ll appreciate the left overs, anyhow,” she nodded and then added, pulling him in closer for another kiss, “and it’s nice to have some time for the two of us.”

                Logan nodded, kissing her lips, then her jaw and the little spot to left of her collarbone that made her giggle slightly. Things were good these days between the three of them; clicking, syncing. It had taken awhile but they had finally fallen into a comfortable rhythm of simply _being_ together, rather than worrying constantly if they were giving each other too much or too little attention. Now it seemed like second nature, this triad they had formed.

                The noise of the main streets droned on the background, but Logan tried to loose himself in the presence of the woman in front of him, letting all his senses fixate on her. She was wearing perfume tonight, something musky, somewhat more unisex than usual that reminded him of sandalwood and cognac. Though now it was muddled faintly from the smells of the pizza parlor and the smoke and pollution of the city.

                He liked the way she looked in the lamp light, the way her hair feathered in the breeze and the sharp shadows the lamps made on her dark skin. He liked the way she stood out, like this place was too small for her grand presence. She was a Goddess walking among mortals, and he felt humbled for her attentions, not to mention deeply grateful. Why someone like Storm would ever settle on him was still beyond him, but he was slowly learning to put that question behind him.

                “Well, back to Westchester then?” she asked, a smile on her lips but sounding slightly listless. Like she wasn’t ready to call it a night.

                Logan grinned, “Well I thought maybe we could get on the bike and see where the night takes us…”

                She beamed and Logan felt a zing in the pit of his stomach that made him wonder if they were even going to last until they got to his motorcycle before pouncing on each other.

                There was a shout then, muffled but stark enough to catch his attention over the buzzing background hum of traffic. He grunted, tilting his head towards the sound as Storm leaned in and caught his cheek, then started kissing his neck, not realizing he was distracted.

                “Maybe we should get a room tonight…” she purred softly.

                Logan groaned quietly, feeling her pull him in closer, his senses noting the rise in her body heat, the faint increase in her heartrate and a rush of lust that was changing her scent subtly. He started to melt back into her, turning to kiss her flush on the lips, pulling her in tight when he heard the sound again, doubled this time by more shouts and the screeching of tires.

                With a growl of frustration he pulled away from his lover’s lips and glared off down the street. “Something’s going on,” he muttered quickly, “about a mile up that way. Smells like trouble.”

                “That could mean anything,” Storm reminded him, a little reluctant herself to have their moment interrupted. More shouts, then Logan caught a glimpse of something above them, dashing across roof tops. A familiar lithe figure swung in and out of view, his bold red and blue suit flashing between the puddles of light created by the buildings and street lamps. Spiderman.

                “Better see what the fuss is about,” Wolverine grumbled before taking off at a trot, Storm matching him stride for stride. As they got closer, the woman took to the air, soaring above him to land neatly on the corner of the apartment building, overlooking the busy street beyond, where it seemed traffic had come to a complete stand-still.

                A crowd had formed around the front doors of First National Bank, and a armored car was parked in the middle of the street, it’s back doors wide open, as what appeared to be a line of bank employees carried safety deposit boxes out into the waiting vehicle.

                As if this wasn’t extremely unorthodox, there also seemed to be a ring of police officers, as well as civilians, standing around the perimeter, holding back the rest of the gawking public. And in the center of the strange show, was the bizarre ring-master himself. Storm recognized him on sight, but Logan had already identified him by smell.

                Mesmero.

                Among the many supervillains they had gone up against, he was perhaps B class. Enough of a menace to warrant caution, but not especially powerful in other aspects. His biggest weakness of course was his glaring arrogance and presumption that his mental abilities to manipulate others through powerful hypnosis and illusions would be enough to stop any threat.

                “What’s that fucker up to, Ro?” Logan asked as he scaled the fire escape of the building to reach her vantage point.

                “Robbing a bank, it looks like. Spiderman is already on the scene,” the woman answered, her hair fanning in the up draft as she watched the young super hero sweep in to engage the villain.

                Logan grunted and looked on with a frown. Parker was a young kid, taking on a city that was always threatening to eat him alive. While he admired the kid’s balls for taking on such a tough job at such a young age and with little support, he couldn’t say that he and the web warrior saw eye to eye much. Parker was too much of a show boater when it came to fighting; one day it was going to cost him dearly.

                They watched as the young hero managed to shut down the armored truck’s escape, and took out Mesmero’s hypnotized henchmen…but the crowd was turning on him. Suddenly it wasn’t just three or four assailants, but a whole mob, all set on tearing off all of Spidey’s arms and legs.

                Logan bared his teeth like a dog, claws unsheathing. “I’m goin’ in, darlin’. How’s about some cover?”

                The woman nodded and lifted her gaze to the sky, eyes clouding over and becoming milky white as her powers produced a sudden thick roll of fog that allowed Logan to drop into the scene virtually unnoticed by the crowd.

                Running low, eyes narrowed, Wolverine wove his way through the crowd of rapt onlookers, making towards the hypnotized hoard that was threatening to tear Parker limb from limb.

                Spiderman had managed to escape the immediate danger, but only just, climbing onto the roof of a bus as the throng tried to climb up it, or push the whole thing over. Mesmero was close, but Logan couldn’t see him. He knew his best bet was to find the guy and take him out before he could spread his influence even further.

                But Parker shouted then.

                Logan snarled and turned, charging towards the bus instead. One of the NYPD, who had been trying to get close enough to attack the super villain now found himself turned upon Spiderman with a loaded gun, emptying round after round at the web crawler, who was trying to avoid the shots, without putting others in the line of fire.

                It wasn’t working either. The officer had already downed three civilians, who were now lying on the pavement bleeding.

                Logan was on the cop, giving him a swift blunt blow to the back of the head with his forearm, sending him to the pavement. With the gunman down, he now had the other unarmed hoard to deal with.

                Parker had been pulled down to the pavement again, quickly vanishing under a crush of bodies. Logan howled and lept at them, grabbing them and flinging them away, though the mindless victims scratch and clawed and bit at him.

                “Get off! GET OFF!” he hissed at them, bowling them aside and doing his best to restrain his claws. He saw a flash of Spiderman’s costume and grabbed it in his fist, yanking forward harshly. Peter popped free of the crush of bodies with a gasp, his costume torn and bloodied by the mob.

                “Wolverine!?” he gasped as Logan rushed him aside, trying to put a bit of distance between them and the crowd. The wind picked up then, howling and harsh, blowing the mist away as Storm used her powers to push their attackers back, blowing them off their feet and scattering the other civilians that were still gathered outside the ring of chaos.

                The masked hero blinked up, catching a glimpse of the woman above them and then shook his head, looking back at Logan, who was driving him back onto the sidewalk. “What the hell are you guys doing here? I’ve got this covered!”

                “Yeah, sure you do,” Logan grunted at him, claws of his right hand fully extended as he took a swipe at one of the braver members of the mindless mob, who tried to lunge at him.

                “Ain’t this fucker a little out of your usual roster of costumed weirdos?” the feral muttered.

                “Look who’s talking. Not used to seeing you without your suit…” Parker panted. Logan noted he was nursing his left leg, not putting much weight on it. He must have twisted it in the attack. “…in fact, are you wearing a tie? And cologne? You don't stink as much as I remember.”

                Logan grunted and managed to block another runner, head butting him and sending him to the ground moaning. Another would have jumped him from the side, but Spiderman took him out with a quick web shot that glued him to the pavement. He glanced up at Storm then, who was sending sporadic lightning strikes rippling above the hoard to blind them and drive them back.

                “Oh, I get the picture," Peter added then, and Logan could hear the smile in his voice as he continued to fire layers of web fluid in the lurching crowd, slowly creating a wall that shielded them and other civilians from the enslaved mob, "the little riot here crashed your date. Sorry about that! But uh, you two can mosey along now, I got it handled." He looked proudly at his web wall, but Logan only shook his head, pointing to the new throng that was surging forward, working it's way through. "Not going anywhere kid; this is bigger than one web crawler can handle." Logan reminded him, trying to find Mesmero among the crowd, but only catching his scent here and there. Parker frowned, "this you and Storm’s regular date night routine? Steppin’ in on other people’s action?” He smirked to himself and then cocked his head thoughtfully, pausing only to web-blast several more attackers who tried to swoop in from the side. “Wait, aren’t you with Gambit?”

                “Yes.”

                “So…?”

                Wolverine glanced over his shoulder at him, looking more than a little irritated with his questions. “Are you actually doing this _now_?”

                “Sorry! Just trying to clarify…” Peter retorted.

                “Keep your mind on the fight, kid.”

                A group of seven or eight citizens rushed them then, armed with random objects, everything from crowbars, to trashcans, to police clubs. The pair met them head on, doing their best to subdue the lot without using deadly force. None of their attackers were particularly strong; it was just that they were so reckless in their mindless state, that they had no fear of Wolverine’s claws or Spiderman’s kicks and punches that left them all flattened upon the floor.

                “They just keep coming!”

                “We gotta take out the source,” Logan grunted, looking up to Storm, who was still doing her best to clear the surrounding area and keep the mob from closing in too tightly around them. There was still a wall of at least forty people between them and the hypnotic mastermind, who was pulling more and more innocent people under his influence.

                “Logan, I’m going after him,” Storm called, but Wolverine waved her off.

                “Don’t try it, Ro, if he gets you under his spell I hate to think what will happen,” The feral looked truly worried at the thought. “Spidey and I will think of something.”

               Logan finally got a lock on him then, spotting him standing on top of the armored car, commanding his witless armies, partially obscured by Storm's fog. But Logan couldn't mistake his high, annoying cackle. "Give up, Spiderman! You just keep drawing more flies into my trap! How many people will you sacrifice to the likes of your so-called friends before you see you can't win this?" Peter bristled visibly at the taunt, "I need to do this alone, Logan. He's just going to keep throwing bodies at you!" "Then we cut through 'em," Logan muttered. "NO!" Peter bellowed, "that's just what he wants! These people are victims! If you want to help, I need to trust that you aren't gonna kill anyone!" Logan snarled and flashed his claws, “I’ll clear a path, get their attention focused on me. You sweep in from behind and take the big guy out. Think you can do that?”

                “That's more like it!” Peter scoffed, shooting his web high and swinging into the air.

                Wolverine winced; “No, wait--!”

                Peter attracted too much attention too soon and Mesmero was ready for it. He turned the attention of the other enslaved police officer’s directly towards Spiderman, commanding them to open fire.

                The rain of bullets caused both Storm and Peter to dive for cover, the later shouting as his web was severed, causing him to fall into the waiting throng. He landed hard, crying out in pain and rolling across the cement, barely escaping being crushed under the mob’s weight as they all tried to grab at him. But Logan was already cutting through the crowd, flinging people aside like they were dolls.

                “You okay?!” he barked, forcing a perimeter around them with his claws, taking swipes as those who were more aggressive.

                “Why do I feel like I’m in an episode of the Walking Dead?” Peter quipped dizzily, still regaining his bearings, only to turn and find that his companion suddenly had his hands full with a larger man with a tire iron. The man had managed to catch Logan off guard, cracking the metal against his face which sent a spray of blood across the sidewalk.

                Peter cried out and lunged at the attacker, managing to use his webbing to pull his weapon free before Logan lunged back in retaliation, ready to set his claws into him. But Peter caught his hand. “Dammit! Put those away!”

                Wolverine snarled and shook the smaller man off, teeth bared and bloody as the hefty gash that had split across his cheek and eye healed in front of Parker’s awed gaze. “We can’t keep this up forever! They ain’t gonna stop comin’ until they kill us!”

                “It’s not their fault! You were supposed to draw their attention!” Peter barked back at him.

                “Hard to do that when they’ve got a bright red and blue target flying around!” Logan barked back. “You jumped the gun and now we’re fucked!”

                “Yeah, well next time maybe you’ll keep your big nose out of it! You showed up and spooked the creep, now I’ve got half a city block trying to kill us!”

                “I’ll happily go back to minding my business, when you take care of yours!” Logan snapped, ignoring the slow moving zombie-like crowd and trying to locate the villain at large. “Where’s Mesmero?”

                “Over here!” Storm shouted from above, suddenly swooping lower. She reached down and Logan instinctively grabbed her hand as she lifted him, grabbing Spiderman with her other as she lifted them above the crush of bodies that threatened to overwhelm them.

                “Hey!” Spiderman gasped, since she had him by back of his costume, leaving him in a rather undignified dangle from her hands. Logan didn’t even try to hide his self-satisfied smirk as she carried them over the crowd and dropped them safely on the other side of the building, where Mesmero was trying to make off with a sizeable security box of cash.

                Logan squeezed Storm’s arm to signal her and she swung him forward, allowing him to pounce on the fleeing criminal, kicking him to the ground and sending him into a rolling skid, his loot scattering everywhere.

                Peter swung free of her as well, swinging across the narrow side street they had followed him down and quickly flattening the downed man to ground with another blast of webbing. “Don’t move!” Parker commanded. “You’re done playing head games, pal. You release those people from your hold on them, or I’m gonna let short dark and angry here work ya over.”

                Logan bristled, though he had his claws to Mesmero’s throat. He glared back at Parker, “Ain’t doin’ nothin on your say so, little man. This bastard’s comin’ with us.”

                Peter blinked behind his mask, hands on his hips. “Um, excuse you? He’s going to stay right here with me and the NYPD until SHEILD gets here.”

                “SHEILD doesn’t know how to handle this. He’s a Mutant,” Logan argued, pausing to glare back at the strange green skinned man below him, who was trying to turn his head to look at Wolverine fully, but couldn’t because of the webbing. “Fury’s got a problem with Mutants.”

                “You mean _you_ have a problem with Fury. Look, Wolverine, this is my city and _my_ call! You can’t just walk in here and--!”

                “Gentlemen this pissing contest is going to have to wait,” Storm hissed behind them, calling their attention to the slowly gaining throng that had found them once more. “We have bigger problems.”

                Logan snarled and cut the downed villain free, yanking him up and pulling him around to face them and the crowd.

                “What are you doing!?” Spiderman cried, his voice cracking slightly.

                The dark haired feral shook the other mutant, “You call them off, or you get these, right between those bug eyes of yours!” he threatened, claws in Mesmero’s face.

                It was a mistake.

                Logan realized too late that he was too close and that the hypnotist had him exactly where he wanted. “Oh I have a much, _much_ better idea…”

                Parker seemed to know what was about to happen a second before it did. He grabbed Logan’s shoulder and tried to yank away. “Don’t look him in the eye! Don’t listen---!”

                For a second, it seemed like sound faded from the world all together and time felt like it had been sucked into a vacuum. Peter felt a sudden pressure in his head, accentuated by a loud rush of sound, garbled words that made no sense and became like blaring white noise. His vision seemed to disconnect, everything went fuzzy, then blank.

                Then, with a tremendous thunderclap that felt like it had been called down by Thor himself, the world jolted into place again.

                Both Spiderman and Wolverine found themselves on the ground, dazed, stunned, their ears buzzing and ringing in the wake of a deafening quake of thunder. Indeed, Peter felt warm, sticky wetness in his ears and nose and realized he was bleeding.

                As his vision started to clear more, he rolled and found Storm now crouched beside Wolverine, helping the man to sit up. He saw her mouth moving, knew she was speaking, but all he could hear was the ringing in his ears. He rolled, pushing himself up on hands and knees. He was already feeling every little scrape and bruise he’d taken from the fight, his knee singing with pain. He began to fear he’d torn something in it.

                There was no sign of Mesmero now, but the crowd had regained their collective senses, most now standing around in a daze, wondering where they were.

                “Storm…we need to get out of here,” Peter muttered, moving to her side as she helped Logan to his feet. “I don’t think you guys need any more bad publicity…and neither do I.”

                She nodded somewhat reluctantly, and lifted Logan more fully as she followed the younger heroes lead, taking them up and away from the crowd until they disappeared into shadows between the skyscrapers.

 

**

               

                From their hidden position in an empty rooftop garden, Spiderman, Storm and Wolverine watched two SHIELD helicopters descend over the city towards the sight of the crime. Sirens were still pronounced, but the number of them had dwindled significantly.

                Certain that they were concealed for the moment, the younger hero removed his mask and moaned quietly, sinking to the ground and nursing his wounded knee before turning his head towards the dark skinned woman and her burly companion, who still seemed somewhat dazed.

                “Well, that certainly could have gone better.” He grumbled.

                Storm glanced over her shoulder at him, a look of displeasure on her face that sent a guilty zing through Parker’s core. “Do not be ungrateful,” she retorted, “we saw a friend in need and came to help. If you are more concerned about keeping the headlines to yourself, you can gladly have them. I’m sure Jonah Jameson can’t wait further smear you.”

                “Sorry,” Peter muttered, “I didn’t mean…look, I appreciate the help, guys, really. But I handle things a little differently.”

                “I’ll remember that for next time,” Logan grunted, righting himself in Storm’s arms and getting to his feet, dusting himself off. He glowered at Parker, “Kid’s right, Stormy, we shouldn’ta barged in. Some people insist on learning lessons the hard way.”

                Peter’s irritated scowl turned into a sneer; “And what’s that supposed to mean? You think I can’t handle myself out there?”

                “I used to,” Wolverine continued. “I admit, I always thought you were fucking _crazy_ , a kid like you, taking on a beast like New York all by yourself. But at least I respected you. But lately, can’t help but notice that you’ve gotten a little distracted. _Sloppy._ ”

                Peter seemed genuinely taken aback by this, gawking at him for a few minutes. “Wh-what--?”

                “First you hook up with Wilson. A known assassin and complete nutcase. You start taking chances you aren’t equipped to handle. I get it. You’re trying to impress him.”

                “You-you don’t…” Peter stammered, cheeks flushing. “What the hell do you know about Wade? Or my love life for that matter?! I don’t need to impress anybody. I’m goddamn Spiderman!” his voice pitched slightly higher in his aggravation and he tugged his mask up above his forehead, so that Logan could see his bitter expression of exasperation. "Who the hell do you think you are anyway? I didn't invite you here, I didn't ask for your help! You-you-don't know anything ABOUT me, and yet feel perfectly justified in commenting on my life, like it INVOLVES you in anyway! You fight with me one time, and now what are you supposed to be, my Mutant Big Brother? HA! No thanks. I'm not enrolling in the Wolverine school of hard knocks."

                Logan looked at him evenly, sitting on the edge of the little garden wall, Storm protectively at his side, hand on his shoulder. “It's not personal, Parker. It's common sense. Wade and I have history, good and bad. Wish I could tell ya there was a time when Wilson wasn’t so off the wall, but truth is he came that way. Weapon X just fueled the fire. You can’t keep up with him, Parker. You’ll burn up trying.”

                Peter folded his arms, “I'm not one of your Xavier School fanclub kids; I don't need your advice.” He grunted sarcastically. Storm narrowed her eyes at the young man, "You are lucky you are not one of my students," she quipped, "I would never tolerate such disrespect from one of them." "Look, Storm, I don't mean to be rude but, but--" he pointed angrily at Logan. "He started it! Maybe you should keep him on a better leash when you let him out!" It was hard to say which of the X-Men were closer to giving him a deserved punch in the mouth. But the helicopter made another sweep over their heads and they huddled further under the awning of the garden, staying low and out of sight. Logan could smell the younger man’s heightened nervousness.

                “What’s the matter? Thought you couldn’t wait for them to show up?” Wolverine smirked, digging around in his pockets and producing a cigar, which he chewed on without lighting. Ororo hated the smell of the smoke. “Afraid yer gonna get grounded when Fury finds ya?”

                _“No,”_ Peter muttered, but he scratched at the back of his neck nervously. "Fury has my back, no matter what."

                Storm looked at him plainly then, “Working with SHIELD no doubt has its advantages, Peter. But it comes at a price; as I think we’ve all seen through the Avengers. I’m not certain that it’s wise for someone like yourself to put your fate in the hands of Nick Fury and Agent Coulson, honorable men though they may be. SHIELD doesn’t have the best track record for treating those with gifts as equals.”

                “They look at us as ticking time bombs. Look at Banner.”

                “You two are completely contradicting yourselves. First you say I’m crazy to work alone, then you bash me for joining SHIELD. Which is it? Not all of us have a billionaire benefactor or a mansion to come crawling home to when things get tough! I'm making the most of what I've got--and Deadpool is a big part of that. Despite what you think.”

                “See, this is what I’m talkin’ about,” the dark haired man continued, ignoring the slight though Storm visibly bristled. “Deadpool’s got you thinking that you’re the star of the show and it’s all gonna go down how you say it does. You don’t get to make those choices with Fury involved. One toe out of line and they’ll find a way to neutralize you.”

“Fury isn’t like that. Not to people he trusts.”

“Does he trust Wade?”

“Well…”

“And does Wade trust Fury? Last I heard about Wilson…he didn’t trust anyone but himself.”

“He’s changed.”

Logan shook his head, which still seemed to be buzzing from Mesmero’s attack. “You can’t have it both ways. It’s gonna come back to bite you in the ass. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes when it does.”

                Spiderman turned away from them, glancing across the roof tops, down into the streets below, feeling a hot sting of anger in his stomach that was quickly rising up his throat. “You know what, Logan? I think you’re just jealous. You’re jealous that SHIELD actually WANTS me on their side, where as they’ve always got to keep you and your people in check. Maybe you’re afraid that being with Wade and Fury will give me an edge that you can’t compete with.”

                “You’re a fucking _child_. There is no competition.”

                He stood and took Storm’s hand, heading towards the roof door. Peter felt that fire in his stomach flare a little too brightly. He was tired of this condescension, this immediate assumption that he was an accidental hero who couldn’t compete with heavy hitters like the X-Men and the Avengers. That he was a joke.

                The words rushed too his mouth before he could stop them; blaring out in a loud garble. “You’re just pissed because I can _have_ a life outside of this! But you never will, Logan! _You’re always a freak, costume or no costume!_ ”

                Logan stilled, his back to him, and it was Storm who turned to stare, both angry and shocked. Peter slapped a hand over his mouth, face hard red and quickly turned away from her burning gaze. He wanted to apologize immediately, but his mortification was too close to the surface. Fingers shaking, he quickly made a web, yanked down his mask and swung away from the roof top as quickly as he could.

                Storm moved as if she would go after him, but her lover curled his fingers around her wrist, holding her back. “Let ‘im go, Ro. He’s just an angry kid, blowing off steam.”

 

***


	2. Chapter 2

 

***

 

                Peter didn’t stop until he was ten blocks away, finally dropping into an alley behind a familiar restaurant where he kept a hidden stash of clothing and a first aid kit for quick changes. He limped out onto the sidewalk a few minutes later, dressed in jeans, a faded t-shirt and a hooded jacket, which he drew up over head. He sunk into the doorway of the nearly empty restaurant and reached for his cellphone.

                Fury had already called four times. Peter stared at the screen for a moment, then ignored them and dialed a different number. A few rings later, a familiar voice buzzed over the speaker.

                “Hello hello hello, you have reached the Deadpool residence! Deadpool speaking! How may I service you today?”

                “Wade,” Peter said, his voice coming out surprisingly raw. “Shut up a second and listen…”

                “Baby? Pete? That you?”

                “Yeah. Listen, I need a lift. Can you come pick me up?”

                “Sure thing, sweetums. Send me the address, I’ll be right there.” His voice was still light and playful, but Peter noticed the faint shift in the undertone, denoting that Wade understood that he needed him.

                “Okay. Hurry.”

                Once the message was sent, he turned the phone off and stuffed it in his pocket. He wasn’t in the mood to hear Fury ringing it off the hook, nor was he willing to stay on too long and allow SHIELD to try to trace the signal.

                He slumped against the wall and huddled into his jacket, feeling sore and angry and miserable. He still felt the burn of Logan’s words to him on the roof top; his condescending indications that Peter was too young and too naïve to make the right choice.

                Fuck him.

                Logan was hardly one to talk about making “right choices”, in Peter’s book. Wolverine had lifetimes to get his shit together and was still getting brain washed and turned into someone’s killing machine every couple of years; what right did he have to tell Peter how to run his life?

                None, that’s what.

                So what if he was using SHIELD as a safety net? Fury was one of the good guys after all, and Peter truly believed that they had everyone’s best interest in mind. After all, the man had assembled one of the greatest super hero teams on the planet. How bad could he be?

                And as for Wade…

                Logan didn’t know Wade. Not like he did. He couldn’t see beyond the Deadpool persona to the person underneath. Not surprising, he guessed. After all, Logan didn’t really live the double life that he and many other superheroes did. He had the privilege of being himself all the time, of never having to lie about where he was or what had been doing, or making excuses and covering his tracks. They were simply from different worlds.

                But as angry as he was, he still cringed when he thought about his outburst. How could he have called Wolverine a “freak”? That was crossing the line and he knew it.

                He glanced at his watch. His eyes were burning, his knee was throbbing. He wanted to go to bed. Thank God it was a weekend, or he’d never manage to shlup his way through his classes in the morning. Finally headlights as a car pulled up the sidewalk and Wade, still wearing his mask despite being absent the rest of his costume, leaned his head out the window.

                “Heeeey baby. How much?” he whistled.

                Peter limped away from the wall and swatted at him as he rounded the car, “Shut up,” he grumbled, falling into the passenger seat. “I just wanna go home.”

                “Sure thing, pussy cat. Your place or mine?” Wade purred, still playing, reaching over to stroke his thigh.

                “Yours. Yours…I can’t go home and deal with Aunt May tonight. I just can’t.”

                “Alright! Sleep over!!”

                Peter whimpered and slumped down in his seat, covering his eyes. “Oh my God, Wade can you not? It’s been a rough night…”

                “So I guessed, watching the news coverage.” Wilson answered as they sped off down the street. “Got your party crashed by Wolvie and his fine lady friend. Not a bad night.”

                “Wrong. It was a fucking miserable night.”

                Wilson raised an eyebrow. “What? Why? I mean from what I saw, you three had it covered. Bad Guy caught, in Fury’s custody. Though really, I wished you had called me first, kitten. I coulda got a niiiice chunk of change for old swirly eyeballs in Madripoor. Woulda paid four months rent AND a sweet little vacay for you and moi.”

                “Wolverine’s an asshole.”

                “Bite thy tongue! You shall not speak of snuggle cousin in such a manner!”

                Here Peter lifted his head and turned it to stare more fully at his boyfriend. “Did you just say ‘Snuggle Cousin’?”

                “Verily!”

                “Oh my God…”

                “Alright, alright, alright. Yes. Wolvie can be a bit of a grumpy puss when ya scratch him the wrong way. But the guy’s alright. I thought you he was one of your idols or something.”

                “Yeah well, you know what they say about meeting your heroes…”

                “Ouch.”

                They pulled up to an old brownstone in Brooklyn sometime later, and when the taller man saw his partner limping more pronouncedly around the car, he bent and ushered him onto his back, carrying him piggy-back style up the steps and into the building. Peter’s long arms and legs dangled from Wade’s hips and shoulders, his head resting against the other man’s masked one.

                “Do you have anything to drink?” he sighed as they reached the door. Wade fumbled with the keys and knocked the door in, sending two or three cats scattering from the light as they walked into the messy room.

                “Always. But first I want to make sure you’re ok.” Wade nodded, sliding the man off his back and dropping him into the lounge chair by the door. “No mixy drinky with concussion. Got it?”

                “My head’s fine. It’s my knee that hurts.”

                Wilson nodded, dropping down to kneel between Peter’s legs, trailing his hands up the boney shins to the knees, giving a light squeeze. Parker jumped a little and hissed and the mercenary quickly turned his attention to the offended area.

                “Why don’t you wiggle on outta that, puddin’? Let me have a better look?”

                Peter grumbled and pulled down his jeans, grimacing as he managed to pull the tight material over his injured appendage and discarded it on the floor. His boyfriend chuckled a little at his expense; “Hey, those skinny jeans come with a price. Pain is beauty and all that.”

                “Shut up. You like how my ass looks in those.”

                “I like how your ass looks right now.” Wade grinned, moving a little further between the skinnier man’s thighs, reaching around to grip his backside lightly. Peter grumbled and tried to pull away, but Wade nuzzled him instead, moving his hands up to his back. “Not in the mood?” he asked.

                “Not really,” Peter sighed, though he was already relaxing into Wade’s grip, happy to be near him again. It was probably crazy, given the man’s track record for unpredictability, but Wade made Peter feel _safe._

Wade nodded, kissing his cheek and ear and moving back to look at his knee, which was turning red and purple as bruise began to form. There was some tenderness and a tiny bit of swelling, but Peter had managed to limp as far as he did without being in excruciating pain, so that was something.

                “You probably pulled something,” Wade nodded, getting up and heading towards the fridge and returning with a bag of frozen peas, a dishcloth and a large rubber band, which he used to secure the make-shift icepack across Peter’s knee.

                “There we go! Dr. Deadpool’s got it all under control.” He handed Peter a drink and some pain killers, and the youth swallowed them down roughly, taking a swig of water before eyeing the fridge again. “How about that drink?”

                Wade raised an eyebrow, finally foregoing his mask and exposing his features fully. Peter had long gotten over the shock of his lover’s condition; the way the super soldier serum had permanently marred his flesh, making it look forever raw and ragged, as though he were a leper. Even his healing factor couldn’t quite correct the problem, though over the years, it had begun to adapt in a way that made it look less painful. Wade had eventually gone from looking like a freshly skinned animal to a third degree burn victim.

                He frowned and scratched the back of his bald head as he opened up a beer for himself instead. “Now buttercup, you’re all of 110 lbs, and those pills are the good stuff. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be—“

                Peter frowned and held out his hand, allowing the webbing to fly forward, catching the freshly opened bottle from Wade’s hand and snapping it back into the web crawler’s grasp.

                “Hey!”

                Peter chugged the bottle and tossed it aside, grimacing and coughing faintly in the aftermath and sat back in the chair, glaring off into the distance.

                “Well, that was real mature.”

                “Don’t you fuckin start on me too,” Peter snapped, pushing himself up. “Everyone wants to act like they know what’s best for me; like I’m not living up to their standards. Well what makes them so damn great, huh?”

                “Pumpkin…”

                “No!” Peter pouted. “Dammit, Wade, I’ve been doing this superhero thing on my own for what…like three years now! And I’ve gotten along fine! I’ve _survived_! I’ve helped people! But does that mean anything to that jerk?! Noooo…”

                Wade came up behind him and got his arms around the smaller man in a hug. “Petey, come on baby…you’re making too big a deal out of this.”

                The smaller man melted back into his boyfriend’s arms, grateful to have some of the weight taken off his injured knee. “I just wish they took me seriously, ya know?”

                Wade nuzzled the bristly brown hairs at the back of his neck and nodded, kissing his skin and moving down to his shoulders. It was meant to be comforting, not overtly sexual. Wade was surprisingly diligent about not putting Peter (or anyone) in a situation where they felt pressured for sex. Peter had never asked why.

                But this time, his lover responded more positively. He was still angry, frustrated…it was creating a pool of nervous energy in his guts that he knew he wasn’t going to be able to work off any other way right now. The pills would kick in soon and he’d sleep it off. But right now, he wanted something to make him forget about Wolverine and Mesmero and that strange look that had passed between the three of them moments before Storm had intervened…

                “Wade,” Peter mumbled, hoping he sounded more seductive than tired, but was unsure as the word came out in a slow slur. “Take me to bed…”

                “You sure, babe?”

                Peter nodded and Wade kissed his cheek and picked him up again, carrying him across the littered floor and into the bedroom. He spread Peter out against the pillows, pulled off his shirt and settle down between the younger man’s legs with a grin. “When we’re done, you can use me as a footstool, and I’ll tell ya all about this new anime I found today…”

                Peter laughed, then whimpered as Wade tugged down the waistband of his shorts and lowered his head.

 

***

 

_Westchester, NY_

               

                Storm had driven the motorcycle home, despite Logan’s protests that he was perfectly fine to drive. If it weren’t for his stubbornness, she would have simply forgone the bike and flown home. But by the time they pulled up past the gates of the mansion and into the nearest garage, she was almost glad she hadn’t.

                The whole ride home, Logan had clung to her. Not in the manner that denoted fear, but more of just…neediness. As they stood now on the paved lot that separated them and the good twelve yards of landscaping that separated them from the main house, she could see that his expression had changed. But not exactly for the better.

                “The mouth on that little runt,” Logan grumbled, climbing off the bike and stalking away into the grass, fist balled, claws ready to unsheathe themselves at the slightest provocation. “I shoulda laid him out,” he muttered to the woman who was watching him carefully from a distance, wise enough to know she shouldn’t get close. “Little prick thinks because Fury’s decided to back him that he knows something I don’t. Like I’m outta touch…” he growled and snorted in frustration, letting his claws extend and slashing at a tree trunk to relieve some of the tension, feeling a sizable chunk of bark come away as result. “Like I’m some doddering old man.”

                Storm looked at him sympathetically for a moment, knowing that she and her lover had come to the root of the problem almost in the same instance. The younger superhero had touched on a nerve that Logan didn’t seem to know he had; the old wolf who had been challenged by the younger pup.

                “Peter is young; he’s still finding his way. Right now he doesn’t seem to know exactly where he belongs. I’m sure Nick Fury has gone out of his way to make him feel like the Avengers and SHIELD are the only legitimate force of good out there. Peter wasn’t born with his gifts after all. They were manufactured.”

                “Yeah, the kid’s a homemade science experiment gone wrong. Not the point.”

                She folded her arms. “Would you have rather we had kept our distance?”

                Logan said nothing, staring off into the dark. “I still don’t understand why Mesmero was making such a public spectacle of himself. The guy’s a ham for sure, but it was almost like he was waiting for someone to stumble on him.”

                “Like a trap?”

                Logan paused thoughtfully and scratched his chin. “Not sure I’d give him enough credit to call it that.” His head gave another faint throb and he winced slightly, which surprised him greatly as it had already been over an hour since the fight. “But if his plan was to fuck up a perfectly good date, I’d say he succeeded.”

                Storm rolled her eyes then and put her arms around the shorter man, kissing the tip of his ear and running her hands down his broad chest. She didn’t want the night to end with Logan brooding in a corner, the entire build up of the evening and the anticipation of a night alone dashed. “And are you going to let him get away with that?” she purred, nipping his earn and the thick bit of flesh between his neck and shoulder lightly with her teeth. She felt Logan give a little shudder and sigh. Logan liked teeth. He also liked that he had woman who was not afraid to bare hers at him, whatever the source of her passion.

                “Mmm…Ro….” He pushed back against her, hand on her thigh, trailing upward as his fingers brushed along the hem of her skirt, feeling warm skin underneath and catching the slight change in her scent as she responded.

                He felt a little twinge then in his head, like a little ripple of nerves that flashed right behind his eyes. He grunted in pain and Storm stopped her movements, looking up in surprise. “Logan?”

                His eyes now seemed somewhat foggy, distant, and even his manners had changed slightly. He seemed faintly disoriented, and faintly sluggish in his movements. “What’s wrong?”

                The feral man was slow to acknowledge her, which alone sent up red flags. “Nothin’, Ro…” he mumbled. He turned and looked at her for a moment, as if suddenly remembering she was there. But the moment he did; she took up all the air around him. He felt a dull throb behind his eyes and something in his perception shifted ever so slightly. He wasn’t just seeing Ororo, his lover, his mate, his teammate and friend. He felt like was looking at her now on a much more primal level. He could hear each of her heart beats, each little breath, feel the warmth of her body heat. Her smell clouded his head further and made him sink deeper into himself. He wanted her, resolutely, wholly and without question. His eyes darkened faintly as she moved closer to him, looking him in the eyes carefully.

                “Logan, I’m worried. We should get you checked in with Hank, make sure you’re alright.”

                “It’s too late to bother ol’ Blue,” Wolverine answered, still looking at her intently. He drew closer to her, putting his arms around her and nuzzling up into her, almost the way a cat does when it wants to be given affection. This was not so different from their contact before, except that it now had taken an odd tone, as if the moment before had been suddenly forgotten. “I’m fine, darlin’. Only thing needs fixin’ is this ache I got for ya,” he mumbled. “Let’s go inside and wake the Cajun.”

                He kissed and licked her neck and collar bone, moving down the deep v-cut of her dress to taste the rest of her exposed skin while his hands kept her pressed flush against him. Storm could feel his sudden erection and brushed it lightly with her fingers, earning a grunt from the man. In spite of herself, she gripped him more fully, squeezing tightly and grabbing the back of his head with her hand as she thrust her tongue deeper into his mouth. Logan moaned hard against her, hips swaying into her hand. She wanted him to know that if this was going to happen, it was not going to be an animal act of him mounting her. _She_ was in charge, and had the final say in however this played out.

                Wolverine submitted quickly and eagerly, pulling back for breath and looking at her a little too eagerly. “Ororo…” there seemed to be more he wanted to say, but the words got lost and didn’t seem to matter. She understood none the less.

                “Love, listen to me…” she resisted, despite feeling that instant draw that always kept her coming back to him, that spark that warmed her inside and out every time she looked at him. She cupped his face between her palms and made him look up at her directly, free of distraction. “Are you certain this is what you want? I’m worried the fight might have taken a larger toll on you than you realize—“

                “Darlin’,” he pleaded, “it’s _me_. Ain’t nothing wrong…I just need to be with you. I want you. Bad.” The last word was more of a purring growl than the rest of his plea and Storm felt a tightening in her stomach that surged down between her thighs at the sound and the way those blue eyes shifted into a darker shade when Logan was aroused.

                Eventually, her lips wet and faintly swollen from their kisses, she managed to break away, holding him tightly as she lifted them both into the air. Logan cringed faintly, hiding his face against her shoulder and digging his nails into her arms and back in spite of himself. He still hated these spontaneous lift offs.

                But the brief dizzying feeling of vertigo was worth it when she deposited them on the roof, in front of the French doors that lead into her room from the garden. Logan was quick to open the doors and usher them inside, the two shrugging off each other’s clothing as they went, pawing and fumbling as they moved, trying to keep bodily contact in some way during the process.

                Remy, who had been asleep in the bed, sat up at the sudden sound, startled and bleary, turning on the lamp and gazing on in surprise at the sight that greeted him.

                “Well well…wasn’t expecting you two home tonight…” He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stared as Logan was almost completely naked, doing his best to pull Storm out of her dress in a single motion. “Oh…!”

                They both turned to look at him, Storm flushed and breathless and Logan was giving him _that_ look, the look that made Remy’s knees turn to rubber bands and made his heart skip a beat. He got a powerful empathic reading off the pair instantly, (though he didn’t need to it assess the situation) and almost flinched at the amount of lust that washed over him.

                “Remy, I’m sorry,” Storm panted, Logan still pawing at her, his hand skittering over her thigh, working inward but not quite reaching between. “Go back to sleep. We’ll go downstairs.”

                “Non,” the Cajun mumbled, voice creaking faintly from soreness. “Don’t rush off…bed’s big enough for three, in case you forgot.” He chuckled.

                They moved towards the bed, Logan falling into a crawl, finally breaking contact with Ororo, who sat on the edge of the mattress as if in a daze for a moment. The feral crawled up Gambit’s long legs, pushing him back into the pillows as he went in for a kiss, startling Remy with the intensity of it.

                He pulled back a second later, nuzzling the man lightly, smelling him. “Yer still warm, Cajun…maybe you should sit this one out.” Logan seemed somewhat disappointed as he spoke, turning his head back towards Storm.

                “What do you think darlin’?”

                The woman didn’t answer immediately, frankly unsure of _what_ to think. But Logan had stirred her up to the point of knowing that if she didn’t do something she would get no rest. But sense told her that Logan was teetering between his two sides, and seemed likely to slip more fully into his primal mode at any moment. This was not a bad thing, necessarily, but it needed to be handled right.

                Then she smiled softly and both men recognized a mischievous twinkle in her pale eyes. She said nothing but moved forward decisively, taking Logan’s shoulder and pulling him back away from Gambit, settling him back on his knees as she kissed him possessively, fist in his hair. “Down boy,” she teased, breaking away after a moment. “I don’t think Remy is up for your brand of lovemaking tonight…but I have something else we could try.”

                Wolverine let out another lustful little grunt, looking at her eagerly as she trailed a hand down his neck, across his shoulders and down his spine before reaching down to cup his ass and squeeze lightly. “If you’re feeling adventurous?”

                The look on Remy’s face couldn’t have been more bemused as he waited to see how Logan would react to the suggestion.

                To their mutual surprise, Logan nodded quickly. “Get it.”

                Gambit suppressed a little giggle with the back of his hand as he grinned stupidly, wondering if he wasn’t dreaming all this, or possibly delirious. “Mon dieu, chere, what have you two been up to tonight?! I thought you were going for a quiet night out…”

                Logan grunted at him and leaned in to kiss and nip at his neck, getting his arms around the smaller man and drawing him up close, seeming to relish the feel of his excess body heat and the salty taste of his skin, even though the animal in him could still smell the lingering scent of sickness on his recovering mate.

                “Play nice boys,” Storm cooed, having moved off the bed as she pulled her dress completely off and let it slip into a silvery puddle on the floor, leaving her standing there in her tight black lacy lingerie as she dug around in the bedside drawer for what they needed next.

                She gave another quick glance over her shoulder at the pair, catching Remy’s eyes. The Cajun understood her expression, once more his Empathy picking up on her feelings. There was no doubt that Logan was _off_ somehow, but neither of them could exactly say why.

                Remy kept the dark haired man close to him, despite the fact that their combined body heat made him feel like he was sitting out on the porch in the middle of the sizzling Louisiana summer, trying to connect with his lover on their most intimate level.

                Strangely, there was some resistance on Logan’s part. Gambit got quick mental glimpses of the evening during its most intense moments; he saw Logan’s kiss with storm outside the restaurant, the tense moments of battle with the hypnotized civilians, the argument with Spiderman and a quick glimpse of Mesmero…then Logan seemed to break the bond, pulling back with a grunt and shaking his head, nipping Remy sharply on the shoulder as if in warning.

                “Enough of that,” the feral grunted. “I want you here with me now, LeBeau. Fuck everything else…I just want to feel something good.”

                Remy nodded, kissing Logan more softly and glancing back at Storm, who had moved around to the edge of the bed again. In the yellow lamp light, Remy caught a glimpse of what she had been preparing and his eyes widened and he gasped softly.

                Logan pulled back and turned to look as well. Storm was now wearing a strap-on, belted around the wide curve of her hips, a smirk on her lips and a bottle of lube in her hand. Logan looked momentarily petrified, then grinned, biting his lower lip. “Holy shit.”

                She climbed up behind him and got her hands around the waistband of his pants and yanked them down in one swift pull. Logan hissed with excitement, feeling the rush of air on his naked skin and Storm brushed up behind him, teasing him with her new toy.

                Wolverine seemed tense, his nerve endings registering every little touch and breath like jolts to the system. Storm kissed down his back and shoulders, rubbing herself against him in the same way he often did her to heighten the intimacy of it while keeping the man calm and assured that nothing was going to happen to him that he didn’t want.

                She nudged his legs a little further apart so that she could reach between them and tease him with her hand, feeling the way he throbbed and twitched in response. Logan sighed then groaned when he felt Remy’s fingers in his hair and the Cajun’s warm lips on his cheek and jaw.

                “Don’t t’ink it gonna take much, Stormy,” Remy purred, looking over Logan’s shoulder at the woman behind them as she continued to stroke the man who was pinned between them. “Maybe better strike while de iron is hot…”

                Storm gave him a commanding look and just smiled; “Never you mind that, LeBeau. Lie back.”

                Remy chuckled softly and obeyed, spreading himself out beneath Wolverine, who was still poised on all fours between them. “As you wish, Madame.”

                She grinned more broadly at the coy title and leaned over Logan’s back again, letting her bare breast brush over the back of his shoulders and moved her fingers from their coiled place around his cock to the place he anticipated most.

                Logan was tight. Ridiculously so. She marveled at it in fact as she worked her fingers steadily inside him, attempting to prepare him for what was coming next. It wasn’t a process she was unfamiliar to. Even she and Remy had played around in this manner before, but Logan was a unique conquest. It wasn’t often she came across such a stern, alpha male who would be willing to let her do this.

                But then again, Storm was an alpha in her own rite. And Logan had always recognized that. Dominance was challenge and won in equal turns between them, and they enjoyed the game. This was simply a new level of intimacy, one Storm knew she was taking a risk with.

                But the payoff was more than worth it.

                Logan, who had been trying to distract himself by tasting every inch of Remy’s torso, began to whimper then groan quietly, trying to hide his face as it started to flush a deeper and deeper shade of pink as she worked her way up against that soft bundle of nerves inside him.

                He dug his fists into the sheets, his breathing became a bit more labored and he pushed back faintly against her fingers, wanting more and growing impatient with the slow teasing pace.

                “Unh…mmmm Ro please…” he groaned, face pressed against Remy’s stomach as the Cajun toyed with his hair. “Getting so close I can’t…”

                She withdrew her fingers and gave him a quick little swat on the ass that made him almost yelp. “Don’t be so impatient,” she coed. “I haven’t even gotten to the best part.”

                Their lover nodded, waiting as she moved around him, slicking herself up more thoroughly as she positioned herself behind him, one hand on his back to steady him.

                Below the two of them Remy gave a little whimper of his own, having been thoroughly teased and aroused by watching the pair and feeling Logan’s mouth and fingers all over his skin. He pulled down his shorts and started to touch himself, until Logan pushed his hand away with a grunt and replaced it with his mouth.

                Remy cried out happily, jolting slightly as the man pleasured him without reservation, taking Remy down to the hilt and sucking hard. Storm waited until Logan became comfortably engrossed in the action before steadying the head of the toy against his entrance and pushing forward.

                Logan’s head snapped up with a yelp of surprise, then a groan as she pulled back and swung forward. The feral groaned loudly, eyes wide as she pulled back and went again, bracing her hand against his back to keep him bent and steady.

                Normally, Storm wouldn’t have started at such a quick pace; penetration of any kind needed consideration and a sense of care. While going rough and hard could be good in the heat of the moment, it could turn unpleasant in an instant. She didn’t want to sour Logan on this experience right off the bat, and more importantly, she didn’t want to make him feel used or completely out of control.

                “Good?” she asked, her voice a bit deeper as she raggedly drew in each breath. The pressure on her pelvis each time she pushed into him was enough to send a rush of blood between her thighs, making her tingle and ache.

                “Yes,” Logan sighed, nodding his head. “Don’t stop darlin’.”

                She nodded and leaned closer, pushing in further this time with a bit more added force. “Mmmmm…! Harder!” Logan responded with another loud moan that made both her and Remy gasp and smile. They hadn’t expected their lover to be quite so expressive in this particular role, nor so enthusiastic.

                As Storm continued to build pace, with quick steady strokes, burying herself further and further inside the man, Gambit wiggled a little further beneath him so that he could stroke him lightly and further excite him by running his free hand across every inch of skin as if mapping it with his fingers. Remy of course knew all of Logan’s other secret hot spots, places where the nerves pooled and gave just the right jolt.

                “Oh God…fuck…fuck me, please…Ro don’t stop…ah! Remy! Ahhhh!”

                Gambit giggled softly and nuzzled his neck, “Let go cher, we got you.”

                Logan growled softly and kissed him breathlessly until he felt Storm push deeper, hitting his prostate at a new angle as she twisted her hips and he gasped in response. Remy looked up at her again and she grinned, cheeks darker as she seemed to be nearing the edge of herself. “Jealous?” she panted, grinning roguishly.

                Remy beamed back at her, reaching to grab Logan more firmly and stroked him hard and fast, making him stutter against him. “Not complain’ a bit, chere. Couldn’t ask for a better view.”

                Soon Logan couldn’t even manage words anymore and Remy could sense that the man had reverted almost completely to his primal state of thinking, and nothing mattered by the tightening cord of tension in his stomach that was threatening to snap at any moment and bring him howling over the edge.

                “L-Logan? Cher?” Remy rasped, trying to catch the man’s attention, but found it too difficult as his own was fleeting, his hand wrapped around both his and Logan’s erections as they ground against each other, offset by Ro’s relentless thrusting, her nails scratching down Logan’s back.

                “Mmm! Mmmmph! Oh my goddess I can’t keeping going much more…” Ro stuttered behind them. She was already soaked and seconds away from coming undone.

                Remy tried again to catch Logan’s attention, brushing his hand along the man’s cheek and trying to bring up his bowed head to look him in the eyes. “Mon amour…ahh…ah!”

                He felt the tension give way first, feeling himself spill hot over his hand and splatter over his bare stomach as a result and as he relished the wave of release, he caught of glimpse of Logan’s dark eyes which were opened barely more than a slit now and were completely black, the blue having faded to little more than a sliver around his irises.

                Storm knotted her hand in the man’s hair as she suddenly hissed and doubled over him, holding back a yell that was obviously building in the back of her throat. With her still pressed hard inside him, Remy gave Logan another tight squeeze with his slick fingers, doubling the pace until the feral shuddered and erupted with a loud groan, quivering from head to toe as a hard wave of orgasm racked his body.

                Both of his partners felt it and were startled by its intensity, each quickly backing off as it began to pass. Storm withdrew the toy perhaps a little too quickly as Logan whimpered at the sudden release and melted on top of Remy in a quivering puddle.

                Storm, her now damp and slightly limp hair hanging in her eyes, looked up at them with sudden nervousness. “Logan? Are you alright?”

                The dark haired man gave a somewhat unintelligible grunt and faintly nodded his head. He didn’t seem to have the energy to lift it. Remy gathered him up and pulled him under the blankets, not caring that they were all a sweaty, sticky mess and reached for Ororo, pulling her in beside them as she discarded the toy and left it lying on the edge of the bed, forgotten.

                They both wrapped themselves around the shorter man’s thick frame, hugging him close but doing their best not to keep his heightened senses over stimulated by moving too much. Storm was shocked at much Logan’s heart rate had risen during their lovemaking and the way his skin trembled under her fingers.

                She looked nervously at Remy, hoping he could sense if something was wrong.

                “Too much?” she asked.

                “Non, chere…think he just wore out.” Remy answered at length as Logan nestled himself between the two of them, Ro wrapped around his back and his face in the nook of Remy’s shoulder. “Can’t blame him…dat was…whoo!” he giggled a little and Ro did the same, slowly letting her guard down now that Logan had settled quietly between them.

                She felt his thick hand reach back and grab hers, pulling it around him and pressing it against his chest. It was the last conscious movement he made as both of them felt him slip into a heavy state of sleep just a few seconds later.

                They laid together in the quiet aftermath for a time, the remaining partners taking their time before speaking. Remy glanced carefully at Storm, who was drowsily gazing off out the windows. “Everything go okay in de city?”

                “We…ran into a little trouble.”

                “Dat could mean anyt’ing.” Gambit amended. “Anything I should be worried about?”

                “No. No of course not,” Storm answered, leaning across their sleeping lover to kiss him softly. “Let’s put this on hold for now, love. I can barely keep my eyes open.”

                Remy nodded in agreement and settled back and closed his eyes. Soon Storm was the only one who lingered on the edges of sleep, wondering if she hadn’t answered his question a little too soon. She hugged Logan a bit tighter to her and kissed his ear again, but the feral didn’t even register her touch, his sleep was so deep.

                “I wish you could see yourself the way we do, my love. You’ve viewed the world too long through such a harsh lens. A pair of fresh eyes would do you a world of good.”

 

***


	3. Chapter 3

***

 

                He had no motivation to come up from the sea of sleep he was happily submerged in. The tiny tinkling awareness that had surfaced at the back of his mind only sought to annoy him and he tried to push it away and sink down again.

                He felt an ache in his leg that he hadn’t recalled being there before. A long, low throb that fluttered over his nerves with each beat of his pulse. He shifted faintly in attempt to levitate the sensation, only to have his limb jolt out as though he were punting a football. The result sent a sharp, pronounced zing of pain through him that made him cringe.

                He opened his eyes in frustration, emitting a loud snort of frustration, only to realize he was not at all where he should be. The familiar walls of Ororo’s attic room were gone, replaced by yellowing painted walls in a closed and cloistered bedroom, outside he could hear street traffic and faint voices of pedestrians through the crack in the open window.

                Logan sat up and found that his body jolted again, as if every little movement he attempted to make became somehow spring loaded. His eyes flickered to the other wall next to the bed, which was covered in posters of all sorts, as well as newspaper clippings, photographs…awkward pieces of maps and computer print outs…it was all a jumble of nonsense.

                The body that was close to his (which he had assumed was Gambit’s) suddenly shifted with a little sleepy groan and hand put itself on his naked hip. “You okay poptart…?” a sleepy voice coed.

                Logan whipped his head in the direction of his bed partner and stared for a moment in shock. Wade Wilson, in all his naked, uncensored glory was looking up at him with this dreamy, lovey-dovey expression that made the feral mutant cringe. “Bad dream, huh baby-cakes? It’s alright, let me kiss it make it better—“ he reached up, trying to plant a kiss on Logan’s face.

                Wolverine reacted naturally. He punched the man hard, sending him rolling across the mattress with a yelp. His knuckles _throbbed_ under the abuse and he actually winced, shaking his hand. Why did everything _hurt_ suddenly?

                “Motherfucker!” Wade groaned, rubbing his jaw. “What the hell was _that_ for!? What did I _dooo_?! I think you cracked my tooth, Petey!”

                “Petey?” Logan repeated with a snarl, leaping into a crouch on the bed, feeling that zing in his knee once more. “What the fuck are you on, Wilson?!” he barked. “Why did you bring me here? And why the hell are you naked!? Jesus…it’s like looking at an overcooked hotdog…”

                The man on the floor remained silent for a moment, studying the other thoughtfully as he rubbed his jaw. “Ooookaaaay…something’s up here.”

                “No shit, idiot.” The other snarled, thrusting his fist forward, ready to unsheathe his claws. “You have three seconds to start explain…” he glanced down. No claws. Nothing. In fact…as he stared at his hand, he realized that it looked nothing like his own. It was small, leaner, with longer fingers and more pronounced joints. The skin was smoother, paler as well, though now the knuckles were flushed faintly red from the punch.

                This was not his hand. Logan blinked, looking at his other hand, and arms now as well. “What…what… _what the fuck_ …?”

                He stumbled off the bed, trying to look himself over more completely. This body was small, thin and muscular and bizarrely hairless. His legs were long and knobby, and he could now see the source of pain from the bruised and swollen knee cap.

                “Easy,” Wade’s voice coaxed suddenly, bringing the feral’s attention back from the bizarre image before him and making him grunt in fear and fall back against the wall and into a crouch, ready to defend himself. “Easy there fella…”

                Wade had pulled on his boxers, which must have been lying on the floor, and was now holding one of his guns as well, though he didn’t readily point it at Logan. “Clearly you’re not Pete. So who exactly am I speaking to?”

                “It’s me you idiot!” Logan barked, hearing his voice crack strangely. “It’s Logan!”

                Wade stood up straight and blinked, “Holy shit. Snuggle cousin!?”

                The feral rolled his eyes. “ _Stop calling me that_ …” he growled. He lunged forward then and grabbed Wilson by the shoulders, shaking him. “What did you _do_ Wade? Is this some kind of joke!? Hmm? You slip me something? You got some fuckin’ telepath messing with my head--!?”

                “Lo-Lo, calm down!” the other man interjected, grabbing Logan by his now smaller arms and squeezing tightly. “This comes as much of a surprise to me as it does to you—what’s the last thing you remember?”

                “Going to sleep, in my own bed, in my own damn body,” Logan muttered, jerking away from Wade and reaching for the edge of the sheet, which he wrapped around his naked waist. As he did so he happened to notice the little red bites and bruises that dotted this new body’s skin and he shuddered. “Who is this? I mean…who am I supposed to be right now?”

                “You really don’t know?”

                “Wait…” he muttered then, spotting a mirror and moving in line with it, where he at last got a complete look at himself. It was Peter Parker’s face that stared back at him, wearing a mask of Logan’s expressions, which alternated between furious and horrified.

                “Just kill me now.”

                Wade slunk up behind him and Logan felt a little zing ripple through him as he sensed his body heat. “You know what’s really funny, is that I actually _could_.”

                Logan tensed, wondering if that wasn’t some sort of threat and made to turn and attack him, fist flying, only to have Parker’s knee jolt with pain at the sudden, twisting movement and completely give out on him. With a yelp of pain, Logan lost his balance, but Wade caught him quickly and easily. “Easy there, Spiderine!” the Assassin clucked, “You’re in my Petey’s body, which unlike yours and mine, _doesn’t_ have a healing factor.”

                “Dammit, put me down!” Logan snarled, but Wade was obviously having too much fun.

                “Man, _this_ is a trip! Body switching?! I mean come on, how Saturday morning cartoon can you get?” he laughed. “Did you piss off any sorcerers lately? Play with any cursed artifacts?”

                “No…wait…”

                He tensed and managed to wiggle out of Wade’s grasp at last. “Mesmero.”

                “Huh?”

                “Mesmero! Last night, at the bank…dammit, I _knew_ something was off about that! He must have been setting this up the whole time, trying to catch Parker…”

                “And you walked right into the little spider trap. Oh man, Wolverine…this is…this is _fucked up-._ ”

                “Tell me something I _don’t_ know.” He began scrounging around the cluttered bedroom for something to cover himself with besides a bedsheet, and slowly found a pair of jeans and shirt that were obviously too small for Wade.

                He pulled them on awkwardly, feeling clumsy in his movements. He wasn’t used to being able to move with such ease with such light limbs. He had forgotten what it felt like without the weight of his adamantium bones. Plus Peter was just so…small, compared to him.

                His head buzzed with anxiety as he sought for some answer to this new and strange predicament. Mesmero could create terrifyingly realistic illusions with his powers; was it possible that this was all some dream that Logan was trapped in?

                Even if it was, he wasn’t sure how to break the spell. Or what would happen if he did.

                He needed back up on this one; he needed Charles, or Jean. Someone that could straighten this unholy mess out before word got out. “I need you to take me to Xavier’s,” he said, finally finishing dressing himself.

                “Why?” Deadpool answered. He had gotten dressed as well, pulling on his uniform rather than any casual clothes. Logan raised an eyebrow.

                “Chuck will know how to fix whatever it is that Mesmero’s done; not to mention it seems reasonable that if I’m in Peter’s mind than…he’s in mine.”

                Both men stared at each other in anxious realization, then bolted for the door. “Tell me you have a car,”

                “In Jersey, are you kidding me?!”

                “Grrrrrr, dammit Wilson you are _completely_ useless!” Logan howled, throwing up his hands in frustration as he marched into the hall, feeling his injury zing each time he did. The constant pain was so strange that it was almost fascinating, but he had little time to dwell on it. “You have to at least a phone on you, right?”

                Deadpool dug around inside his belt and produced a bright pink Hello Kitty phone, which he tossed causally to Logan. The man caught it clumsily, and then to his growing frustration, found that his hand was stuck to it. “Agh! How the hell does Parker _cope_ with these powers?! They’re terrible!”

                “Says you,” Wade coed, steering him along as they left the building and made their way across the sidewalk. “Look, we’ll take a cab or something. Westchester’s not that far. I’m sure Pete is probably still asleep…in your bed, or den, or cave or whatever your natural habitat looks like.”

                “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.” Wolverine muttered, finally managing to unstick his fingers long enough to dial the phone, choosing Remy’s cell number first, since Storm usually left her phone in her office. “Please, please pick up Cajun…”

                “Oh, so you and he did manage to patch things up! What a relief! Here I’ve been on pins and needles, with all the rumors out there.”

                “Not now, Wilson.”

               

**

 

                Peter woke up _knowing_ he wasn’t ready to deal with another day. It was simply one of those mornings that you felt like throwing the alarm out the window, balling up in the blankets and shutting out the world.

                He was still mad from last night he realized as he let himself become more fully conscious, despite doing nothing to show this outwardly. But the rage and indignation had turned to a low bitter simmer…he wasn’t even exactly sure if he was made at Wolverine or just… _mad_ in general. Another good reason to ignore the idea of waking up and functioning like a normal person.

                Arms were around him, safe and secure. Wade must still be sleeping heavily, he felt no movement from the other man, only the quiet sound of breathing against his back. He felt a limp arm draped over his side and felt a hand dangling there and he reached up to stroke the fingers, only vaguely noting they felt smoother than usual.

                But he was distracted foremost by the sensation of how heavy he felt. Like just lifting his hand was a focused effort, like he was lifting a weight. This made him frown into his pillow; the feeling probably meant that he was not only going to be as sore as hell all day from the beating he’d taken (and the rigorous sex that followed later) but also hung over from the narcotics Wade had given him.

                “Ugh…why’d you let me take that?” he muttered tiredly. His voice came out a thick garble that he didn’t recognize and he tried clearing his throat, thinking it must be just dried out or in need of clearing.

                The arms around him shifted, the body moving closer, a face nuzzling into his neck and sighing heavily with sleep, seeming to dislike the disturbance of sound. But another voice answered him,

                “Take what, love?”

                Peter froze, forcing his sleep crusted eyes open. He was sprawled in the middle of a large bed, tangled in sheets and pillows and the arms and legs of another body who curled behind him. But across the empty side of mattress he now saw a woman, who was dressing herself casually in front of the mirror, glancing back at him in the reflection as she attempted to tame her wild white hair.

                He blinked hard and lifted his head slightly, propping himself up on an elbow and pulling the blankets a little closer around his naked figure. “Storm?” he rasped.

                She turned to him, buttoning up her blouse as she did, head cocked curiously as she studied. “It’s alright, Logan, go back to sleep. I have some things I need to go over downstairs with Charles and Jean before this afternoon.”

                He just stared at her as if she had corn spontaneously growing out of her ears. She shook her head and crossed the room, kneeling on the edge of the bed as she leaned in to give him a kiss. He tensed as her lips brushed against his, incapable of reciprocating in his shock.

                Storm of the X-Men was _kissing_ him. What weird Alternate Universe had woken up in?

                She pulled back, obviously having noticed his rigidness and frowned in concerned, pressing her palm across his cheek and his forehead. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’d come down with something.”

                He felt the hand that had been wrapped around him from behind suddenly splay lightly across his chest, scratching through thick curls of black chest hair (wait…where the hell had _that_ come from!?) before moving down a bit lower, and he felt lips on his shoulder.

                “Cher, lie back down, come back to bed. Stormy don’t need de two of us makin’ her late for work.” A sleepy, decisively southern voice purred from behind him.

                Peter jumped—to the best of his ability, he felt so _heavy_ —and turned to find none other than the ruby eyed mutant Gambit lying next to him. _“Holy shit.”_ He muttered quickly, blinking down and realizing that not only was he naked, but Gambit _definitely_ was.

                “Ooooh what did I do? What did I _do?_ Wade, dammit, what did you give me!?” he yelped, scooting hurriedly away from both of them and flattening himself against the headboard, flings splayed behind him like any minute he was going to try to climb up the wall.

                The thought crossed his mind, but he wasn’t quite there yet. He was far too busy panicking.

                Both of the other X-Men were staring at him now with a new sense of concern and confusion. “Wade?” Storm asked pointedly. “Wade Wilson? What has he got to do this?”

                “Uh,” Gambit began, quickly pulling the sheets over his exposed waist. “dere’s a _much_ bigger question here.”

                “What?”

                Remy moved closer to where Peter sat crouched, ready to leap away or spray webbing in his face at any moment, eyes seeming to glow in the dim room. Pete felt a strange wave of warmth wash over him, forcing him to relax, if only a little.

                “Who are you?” Remy asked pointedly.

                Behind him, Storm looked completely unnerved by the question, standing straight up again.

                “I-I’m Peter Parker! Peter Parker! Spiderman! Come on, Storm, you know—“

                The woman covered her mouth with her hands, looking quite frightened by this omission, but Remy just kept looking at him with those intense red and black eyes, leaning in a little closer still now. “Oui….I can feel dat. But where is Logan?”

                “What, how should I know?” Peter spat, feeling his voice taken on a guttural edge.

                Gambit looked to Storm, who suddenly moved to her dresser and returned with a hand mirror, which she held up for Peter to see.

                Only Peter didn’t see himself. All he was Wolverine, in all his buff, hairy, snarling glory, glaring back at him through the glass. Slowly, as dread and understanding began to trickle through him, he removed a hand from the all and carefully touched his face. _Logan’s_ face.

                “Aw shit.” He pawed at himself, taking in the view of Logan’s body from a deeply intimate perspective. Everything about Logan was strong, compact and weighty. Overwhelming. Peter became aware of strange sounds, the faint flutter of a pulse from the two beings in front of him, the sound of someone who must be at least two floors away running down the hallway, the faint rustle of an animal in the tree outside.

                It wasn’t just hearing either, it was smell. He was picking up on a dozen or so subtle scents that filled the room around them. He could smell the plants in Storm’s garden, the lingering smoke of incense, her perfume; something lavender and honeyed today. He could smell Remy’s shampoo and even the vague smell of cold medicine on his breath. He could also smell deeper, muskier things. The room reeked of sex.

                He suddenly became alarmingly aware of his own nakedness and looked between his legs, eyes wide. “Well, uh…guess I shouldn’t be surprised by that but… _damn!”_

                “M’sieur Parker,” Remy said, a little more firmly this time. “I’m afraid I’m gonna have to ask you again. Where is Wolverine?”

                “I-I dunno,” Peter emitted truthfully. “I have no freaking _idea_ what’s going on. Except that you and I are very naked and---“ he looked nervously at Storm, “am I right to assume you were also naked? In here? In the bed? With us?”

                The woman did not look amused. “This is madness. How can this be Peter?” she demanded, ignoring Parker and looking to Gambit, who was still studying him closely with those piercing eyes.

                “M’powers don’t lie, cherie. Dese aren’t Logan’s feelins I sense; not even anyt’ing close to.”

                “What does that mean?”

                “I’m an Empath, can tap into other people’s emotional states. I know what my Logan feels like, and you ain’t him.”

                “Well of course I’m not!” Peter whined, “Okay, look…last thing I remember I was falling asleep in my boyfriend’s apartment. H-how could this have happened?”

                “Don’ know,” Remy said, scooting off the bed now and finding himself some clothes to tug on as Storm continued to study the strange new form of Wolverine who was crouching in front of her. “Storm? What happened last night? What’d you two get mixed up with?”

                “Nothing like this,” Ororo replied, then paused, looking nervous. “I need to go get Jean. Wait here with him.”

                “Jean? Why?”

                “Just stay with him!” she commanded, rushing out the door, leaving Remy standing awkwardly in her wake. He took a hefty sigh before turning around, chin in hand, studying Peter with a look of absolutely befuddlement.

                “You know, I’ve seen a lot of strange shit in my time, but somehow, dis place keeps findin’ new ways to surprise me.”     

                “You and me both, pal.” Peter muttered, his hands shoved over his crotch, trying to keep himself covered. “Uh…could I have some pants or something?”

                The auburn haired man nodded and found a pair lying in a clean laundry basket by the closet and tossed them to him. Peter raised his arm to catch and actually lost his balance from the weight of the sudden movement, toppling over in the sheets gracelessly with a groan.

                Remy looked away, but he could hear the man stifle a giggle at his clumsiness. “Oh my God…how does Logan even brush his teeth?! Why is this body so heavy!?”

                “Could be de metal skeleton you wearing,” Remy mused.

                Peter blinked, then nodded. “Oh…right. Guess that makes sense.” He looked at his hands nervously, once he’d managed to pull his pants on. “Well…where do the claws--?”

                “Don’t!”

                Too late. Peter cringed for a second as he felt a heat rise in his hands, followed by a sudden rip through his skin and muscles that made him yelp. And then there they were, in their full glory, gleaming like polished chrome, jutting from the fleshly place just beyond his knuckles. Wolverine’s claws.

                “AHHH!”

                “Jesus! Put does away!” Remy yelled.

                “H-how!? How!”

                “I- _I don’t know_ , just….put ‘em back! Before you hurt someone!”

                “AHH!”

                “Peter calm down!”

                “AHHHH!”

                He tried to move his hands, but found them oddly locked in position. He had no idea how to retract the claws, a move that Logan made look as simple as breathing. He tried flexing muscles, even sucking in breath, but nothing made them move. He tried to lay his hands down, to keep the damage to a minimal, but instead he managed to nick both his thighs, cause a wide gash of blood to appear across both. And when he tried to pull away, he ended up slashing the mattress and the blankets, which managed to snarl in the claws. He waved them frantically, trying to dislodge the fabric, but to no avail.

                “A little help!”

 

***


	4. Chapter 4

 

***

 

                Ten panicked minutes later, Remy had managed to clean up the blood and ruined sheets and forcibly cause Peter to retract the claws in his hands, and help him into some clothes, ignoring Parker’s snide remarks about the fact that Logan only seemed to own flannel shirts.

                Luckily by this time Storm had located Jean and had returned to the room, gazing awkwardly at one another.

                “Wow,” Peter muttered the moment the red haired woman entered the room, smiling awkwardly. “You’re prettier in person.”

                Somehow hearing this childish compliment coming out of Logan’s mouth, in Logan’s voice no less, was enough to make the rest of them cringe slightly. Jean ruffled for a moment and then moved closer to him, glancing back at Storm and Remy. “He woke up this way?”

                “Apparently,”

                “And you remember nothing from before? Perhaps a strange dream?” she asked, now looking back to the man in Wolverine’s body.

                “No, sorry…slept pretty hard I guess.”

                “It’s alright. Just relax and let me take a look…” She reached her hands towards his temples and he instinctively flinched away from the awkward grasp.

                “Whoa, whatcha doin’ there?”

                “Peter,” Jean said curtly, having to remind herself of his name, “please, I need your cooperation in this. I need to see inside your mind, to look for clues as to what caused this and search for Logan’s consciousness. I promise it won’t hurt, though you may feel strange for a bit.”

                Peter wondered vaguely if his Spidey-senses still worked in this body, but somehow doubted it. Begrudgingly, he held still, allowing her to place her palms against his head. He felt a faint rush to the head, like he was suddenly being swept upwards. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, though it made his stomach flutter and his pulse quicken faintly.

                He could sense Jean moving through his memories, bringing flashes of the night before to the forefront of his mind in quick succession. He saw his night in bed with Wade, the argument with Wolverine and Storm, and the battle with Mesmero. She couldn’t seem to settle on any one thing for a time, making his head buzz, until she came to the moment where Logan had finally cornered the supervillain.

                Things slowed down for a moment and Peter felt himself once more trying to keep Wolverine from making contact with the other man.

                “There,” Jean said suddenly, next to him. “I see what happened now.”

                “Really, cause I don’t,” Peter muttered.

                There was another rush and suddenly they were back in the bedroom. Peter grunted and shook off her influence, feeling a faint headache from the ordeal.

                “What did you find, cherie? Logan still in dere somewhere?”

                “No, actually,” Jean replied. “I wasn’t sure Mesmero was capable of this sort of thing, but there are only Peter’s memories and consciousness present in Logan’s mind. It’s like everything else has been forced out. This is more than hypnotic suggestion, it’s a complete transference of consciousness.”

                Storm looked on anxiously, “I wasn’t aware such a thing was possible except by people like…” she trailed off nervously and wrapped her arms around herself, and Remy moved closer to her, bracing a hand at the small of her back. “How do we undo it?”

                “It’s beyond me,” Jean answered. “Charles might be able to undo the damage, but we have to find where Logan’s consciousness has gone. I presume it’s safely in Peter’s body.”

                “That’s all the way in Jersey,” Peter answered. “With Wade.”

                Gambit moved away from the group and made his way to the bedside drawer, where he’d left his phone. Upon turning it on, he saw that he had a dozen missed calls from that very number and sighed, quickly hitting the call button. “Looks like your beau woke up to a snarling surprise of his own,” he sighed as he waited for an answer.

                Peter cringed, dragging a pillow towards his now hairy face and groaned into it. “Oh my Gooooooood…well…at least he didn’t wake up at Aunt Mae’s…” He cringed again and then skewered the pillow accidentally, causing it to explode a plume of feathers. “Dammit!”

                Storm pulled the pillow away from his claws with a look of deep annoyance and put her hand firmly on his shoulder, looking at Remy. “Well?”

                Gambit was just hanging, “They’re on their way here; and our man is extremely disgruntled.”

                “Is Wade okay? Did he say anything?”

                “Other than just cackling in the background, I couldn’t tell.” Gambit sighed. “Okay, so since dey are on route, I t’ink it best we all just sit tight. Jean, any way you can keep M’sieur Parker from kabobing anyt’ing else?”

                “I don’t want to risk it,” Jean answered. She looked firmly at Wolverine, “Just…remain calm. Tension seems to cause you to release them.”

                “Got it.”

                The red haired woman stood, “Storm, I think you and I better go down and talk to Charles. Remy, can you—“

                “Oui,” Gambit nodded, “I will keep an eye on ‘Spiderine.’”

                “Don’t call me…wait, that actually sounds pretty cool.” Peter mused. LeBeau gave him a sidelong look that told him he needed to shut up as the women exited the room. They stood a moment in silence and then Peter glanced towards the edge of the bed, where he could still the discarded sex toy that had been obscured by the blankets.

                “So uh…you guys get kinky, huh?”

                Remy raised an eyebrow for a moment and then spotted the item in question and quickly threw it into Storm’s bedside drawer. “Not dat it’s any of your business, little Spider.”

                “Hey, hey, no judgement! Whatever works for you guys…I mean, clearly you’ve got a…less than conventional thing going on. It’s cool.”

                “Peter, I’m not opposed to slapping you.”

                “Wouldn’t it hurt your hand?”

                Remy bristled faintly and Peter had to admit that the other mutant looked both deadly and somewhat adorable when he was irritated, but his pursed frown quickly faded into a wicked little smirk. “Well, it may interest you to know, nosey Parker, dat said little toy you so interested in was for _you_ , not me or Storm.”

                Peter’s eyes widened and his face reddened and it was such an awkward expression on Logan’s features that Remy almost laughed in spite of himself.

                “Uh…wow. So…Storm…?” He could picture it suddenly and his face went even redder and he found that his throat was dry. “Oh man…”

                Remy grunted and moved away from him, “Logan will be here in about an hour or so; I need a shower…t’ink you can stay out of trouble for that long?”

                Peter scoffed. “Please, it’s not like I’m some dumb kid.”

                Remy just stared at him with that deadpan expression and Peter frowned darkly. “You’re an asshole.”

                “Now you beginning to sound like Wolverine.” Remy added. “Sit. Stay. I’ll be just a minute.”

                Peter waited until he heard the sound of the water running before getting to his feet. Even getting his balance took him a second or two, but after a few hesitant steps he seemed to have the hang of it.

                He made his way to the door and stepped out into the threshold, glancing around for signs of either Jean or Storm. Luckily, the corridor seemed vacant.

                “I’m not going to sit in the corner and wait to be fixed…no way,” he muttered as he made his way towards the stairs that lead down to the lower levels of the house. “Besides, how often do I get to explore the fabled X-Mansion?”

                He stuffed his hands in his pockets, hoping that this would somehow help him control his unruly claws and make him look less conspicuous, and made his way down the winding stairs into the busier corridors.

                Students passed him here and there, carrying books and bags and what have you. For the most part, they all looked like completely normal children, but as he watched them a bit more closely he caught glimpse of their uniqueness.

                He saw one girl create a water spout from her finger tips, using it to spray another student about four feet behind her, who laughed and yelled and swept the water away, freezing it into place so that it lingered in the air like little gleaming crystals before vanishing into vapor.

                Peter grinned watching them, awed by how at ease they seemed in this place, unself-conscious and unashamed.

                Someone rushed past him, knocking into his elbow and nearly toppled over. He reached out reflexively and caught them before they could crash to the floor, though their books scattered everywhere. “Whoa, easy there!”

                “Sorry, Wolvie,” the girl in his arm said as he helped to right her. She wasn’t much younger than him, her short dark hair a wild tangle on top of her head, wearing a bright yellow tank top and black denim shorts and hot pink converse sneakers that looked like they had been rolled in glitter.

                Peter blinked at the strange familiar nickname as the young girl bent to gather up her books, “Ugh, I’m gonna be late to Scott’s class _again_! Detention for _sure_ this time,” she muttered. She pouted for a moment and then glanced up at him, “You think you could come with me? Give him some excuse, like…I had to help you with something, I dunno, urgent or whatever?”

                “Uh…sure.” Peter said slowly.

                She cocked her head at him, “You feeling okay? You seem…kinda slow on the uptake this morning.”

                “I’m fine,” Peter answered quickly. “I mean,” he grinned, flexing slightly, “I’m _me._ ”

                The girl leaned away from him, looking somewhere between disturbed and mildly amused. “Ooookay…yeah. Well, come on, we’d better hurry. More than ten minutes late and one of us will have to be bleeding.”

                She reached and grabbed his wrist, tugging him after her. Peter followed, trying to appear as normal as possible, though it was difficult for him to gauge what Wolverine’s “normal” was.

                The girl glanced back at him again, seeming to sense that something wasn’t quite right about him. “Why do you look so lost? You weren’t up drinking all night with Remy were you?”

                “And what if I was?” he grumbled.

                “Ugh. You guys are always so _loud_ when you drink. And you told me you’d go easier from now on…healing factor or no, I worry about you.”

                It seemed Logan wasn’t beyond being nagged about his behavior by his fellow Mutants. Good to know he supposed. “Why don’t you worry about my apparently unchecked drinking habits and you just worry about your study, okay?” he grinned.

                “You’re weird today.”

                “I’m not weird…you’re weird.”

                They came around the corner then and stopped to avoid walking into another figure, one that couldn’t help but capture their attention.

                Dr. Hank McCoy, a.k.a Beast, stood there before them, a large cup of coffee in one big blue paw and a leather briefcase in the other.

                “Running late _again_ , Jubilation?” he quipped, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his feline nose. His golden eyes slipped from the girl to the man shuffling awkwardly behind her. “Logan? I didn’t expect you back so soon…how was your evening with Ororo?”

                Wolverine just stood there, looking him up and down, thin lip and wide eyed. “Oh my God I’m talking to Hank McCoy…” he mumbled under his breath, which made Hank raise an eyebrow.

                Damn that weird feral hearing!

                :”Uh, I mean…it could have gone better. I mean…the night was going great, but then I just…ya know…felt the need to stick my big nose in where it didn’t belong. Ya know how it is. Being…the glory hungry jerk I am…bub.”

                It was too much, he knew. But soo worth it.

                Beast seemed stunned into speechlessness, as was the girl beside him, so he continued on, proceeding to circle Hank’s large blue form curiously. “Wow you are…waaay more impressive than Fury told me. I have so many questions…first being, why are you wearing a suit?”

                “I…” Hank blinked. “Would you prefer I stalked about the halls in the buff?”

                Wolverine chewed his lip thoughtfully, his eyes wandering lower. “Well…maybe not with the kids around of course.”

                “Logan!” Hank hissed, dropping his brief case and putting a rough hand on the smaller Mutant’s shoulder, forcing him back a few steps and backing him against the wall. “What are you _saying_?! Are you _drunk_ right now?”

                “Nope! Totally sober! Uh…however, I am feeling a little out of sorts today…”

                “What is going on out here?” the voice of Scott Summer interrupted. They all looked up as the tall man made his way from his class room door, looking thoroughly annoyed. “Alright, _please_ tell me this isn’t what I think it is. Jubilee,” he turned his eyes on her, frowning sternly. “You’re late a _gain_. I’ve warned you—“

                “But I—“

                “Hey, hey, lets not be so hasty,” Peter replied, clearing his throat as he leveled his gaze with Scott’s. “She’s only late cause I held her up. It happens, ya know?”

                Scott folded his arms, “I’m sorry, Logan, but she’s got to learn, and you making excuses isn’t going to help with that. We don’t play favorites around here.”

                “Aw, come on, Summers,” Peter purred, somewhat surprised that he actually had that ability and put an arm on Scott affectionately, squeezing his arm lightly. “Don’t punish her cause of my mistakes.”

                He felt his other senses kick in, detecting a slight raise in Cyclops’s pulse, and a smell which seemed to confuse and arouse him at the same time.

                Ugh! What the hell was this? Wolverine’s own version of “Spidey” sense he guessed. He wasn’t sure exactly what the smell meant for Scott, but he knew that it had kicked something into gear in Logan’s body. He felt an awkward rush of blood to groin and he chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Whew…hot in here, am I right?”

                Both Hank and Scott continued to stare at him, while Jubilee had taken this opportunity to slip into the class room before her professor could think of a proper punishment.

                Scott turned his gaze to Hank. “What’s wrong with him?”

                “I’ve yet to discern.” Hank answered, leaning a bit closer to Logan again.

                “Boys, boys! Nothing’s wrong with me! I’m _Wolverine_ , right? I run this place.”

                “ _Excuse you?”_ Scott muttered.

                “Maybe the two of you just need to loosen those collars and come out for a beer with me. Gambit and Storm don’t have to know.” He grinned, giving them a playful wink.

                Peter knew he was making a complete ass of himself. Or rather a complete ass of Wolverine. He should have been above this—but somehow he couldn’t stop himself. There was a hot little vindictive part of him that wanted to bring the high and mighty claw bearing Mutant down a notch.

                He didn’t expect the looks of absolute mortification that came over both of the other Mutant’s faces however at the playful suggestion. He winced, wondering if he hadn’t crossed some invisible line.

                “Uh…fellas? I was just joking.” He grinned with embarrassment. “Right? Ol’ Logan…barrel of laughs. Haha…”

                Hank stormed away and Peter felt his stomach drop. “Uh oh.”

                If possible, Scott’s frown deepened. “Dammit Logan, every time I think you can’t make things worse for yourself you somehow manage to prove me wrong.”

                “Okay, look,” he said, more seriously this time. “I didn’t mean it. I’m not…quite myself right now.”

                “More damn excuses,” Scott spat turning back towards his class, as he could now hear the sounds of their loud distracted chatter.

                “Wait, I can--!” But Scott was already back inside the classroom, slamming the door behind him, leaving him standing alone in the hall again.

                “Shiiiiitt….” He groaned, scrubbing his hands across his face. “Okay, Peter, you may have taken that one a little too far. Jeez…what kind of eggshells does this guy have to walk around on here? I just assumed he was a big shot…”

                He glanced around at the other rooms, not knowing where to turn next. Now he couldn’t even quite remember the way he had come, and the idea of returning to the upstairs seemed unappealing. He walked a little ways and found a door that lead to the grounds beyond, and decided it might be best if he got a little fresh air and laid low until Wade showed up with his body (and the real Logan) in tow.

                He strolled along the little paved path through the a small topiary garden which lead down into the wider expanse of clean grass, dotted with trees and lined with little trails that eventually made their way down to a nearby lake, and beyond that a heavy line of trees which surrounded the property.

                His new, highly sensitive nose was picking up on dozens of smells, flowers, plants, distant animals and of course the lingering smell of people. Little by little Peter was starting to decipher how to separate the smells from one another, though he had to guess at much of it.

                Even though he seemed mostly alone on the grounds—he could see a small group of students jogging in track uniforms in the distance—he could still hear the distant drone of voices, punctuated here and there by a sneeze or a cough or a laugh. If he strained, he could even hear the scratch of chalk on the chalk board from an open class room window, though it was more than two floors above him.

                He flopped down on a bench beneath a tree and rubbed his head, covering his ears in an effort to drown out the constant barrage of stimuli.

                How did Logan function like this? Hearing and smelling and sensing so much at once? It was major sensory overload.

                His Spidey sense afforded him a great advantage, but it wasn’t on _all the time_. He figured he’d go crazy if it was. No wonder the feral Mutant was so damn cranky all the time, he must be desperate for some _quiet_ to be able to hear his own thoughts…

                “You might be surprised,” a voice said then, all but making him jump out of his borrowed skin. He turned hurriedly, looking over his shoulder as the red-haired woman approached him. He felt a twinge in his knuckles as the blades started to emerge, but somehow he managed to lock them in place before they could fully unsheathe.

                Not surprisingly, it was a very unpleasant sensation.

                “Relax,” Jean said softly, sitting down beside him and putting his hands together in her lap as she massaged the redden skin between. Little by little, the blades retracted. Peter hissed at the ache it left behind and then nodded gratefully.

                “How’d you do that?”

                “A little bit of telekinesis…and guess work.” She admitted. “I thought I left you with Remy.”

                Peter frowned. “Yeah…sorry. But can you really blame me for wanting to explore this place? I mean, it’s not like just anyone gets an invitation to the X-Mansion.”

                “And it has nothing to do with you wanting to have a little fun at Logan’s expense?” the woman asked, still eyeing him thoughtfully.

                Peter almost blushed. “Oh right…the whole mind-reading thing. Guess you saw that, huh?”

                She nodded.

                “Alright, you got me. I was being an ass. But I think I might have stepped on some toes.”

                “Wolverine’s a bit more complicated than you guessed.”

                Peter rolled his eyes, “Ugh, I hate when people say that. Everyone’s ‘complicated’. I guess I just…assumed everybody loved the short hairy brute.”

                “We do. Some…in different ways than others.”

                “No kidding. Jesus…I thought I had problems.”

                She laughed lightly, hair falling over her shoulders. “Logan’s not an easy man to decipher. He’s been through some things that have left him jaded. I once thought I could help him with that, but,” she sighed, folding her hands in her lap. “he took another path.”

                Peter eyed her a minute. “Oh. So you two were close, huh?”

                “Not like I wish we were.” She looked at him curiously, “When I was in your mind, searching for his…I touched on your own feelings about him. You shouldn’t be envious, Peter. You have much to be grateful for in your own life.”

                “Yep. A city that chews me up and spits me out every night, relentless crime, friends and family who think I’m a total flake because I’m always gone. Not to mention now I’ve got the weight of SHIELD baring down on me. Yeah…my life’s a real slice of heaven.” 

                “What about your relationship with Deadpool?”

                “You know about that?”

                “You love him. You’re afraid that you aren’t strong enough for him. That he’ll look down on you because of your age and lack of experience.”

                “Hey…that’s personal.”

                “You’re also jealous of his regard for Logan. You don’t want to admit it, but you’re afraid that Wolverine will sour him on you, that Wade will start viewing you the way you think he does. You want so badly to be taken seriously Peter, but you’re barely out of high school and the whole world is a much darker place than you ever dreamed…even after you lost your uncle…”

                “STOP!” Peter roared suddenly, hearing Logan’s howl reverberate his own words back. The claws were out again and this time he didn’t care. “You can’t just—just--!”

                “I’m sorry!” Jean gasped, stepping away.

                Peter noticed then she smelled strangely, almost like low burning coals.

                “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to invade your thoughts that way, I just…” she looked at him again and her eyes seemed to change and Peter sensed a shift in her scent once more and now the burning smell was more potent, along with that same weird musky smell that had made him uncomfortably aroused around Scott and Hank.

                Jean moved towards him, pushing his claws down as she backed him against the tree. Peter felt a hard knot appear in his stomach as he looked at her, recognizing that the expression on her face was one that was full of hunger and lust. Her green eyes seemed too bright, and when he looked closer he thought he could see flames dancing in depths of her pupils.

                Fear crept up his throat. “Ms. Grey what are you doing…?”

                “You don’t have to be afraid of me, Peter. I know what I’m doing.”

                “But _I_ don’t.” he muttered, lifting his heavy hands and placing them lightly on her forearms, trying to back her away. “This doesn’t feel right…I don’t think Logan would like this.”

                “You don’t know Wolverine very well, do you?” she grinned. “The man’s appetite is bigger than you might guess. Why do you think he has two lovers? Or haven’t you realized that the reason Hank McCoy and Scott Summers were so upset with your little jest was that you touched on a longing they both harbor and have yet to satisfy?”

                She felt warm to the touch. Warmer than any normal human (or mutant for that matter) should. He pushed her back with a growl, holding his claws out defensively.

                “Stop it, Jean! I don’t think you know what you’re saying right now.”

                “You’re afraid. Just like him.”

                “Lady…don’t make me use these.”

                _Please, please_ _don’t make me use these!_

                There was a flash of bright magenta light then that startled them both as something landed on the ground between the two of them and then burst into sparks.

                “I t’ink everyone needs to take a step back,” Gambit’s voice came suddenly from further up the path. The Cajun looked none too pleased with the sight he had just walked in on, and Peter wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the man look so serious.

                They ruby eyed man paused by Jean, looking at her hard. “Not sure what’s going on here, Miss Jean, but I don’t like de look of it. Maybe best you run along and get Xavier, afore anyone gets hurt.”

                The woman blinked at him slowly and Peter watched as something odd passed between them, as if they were trying to feel each other out and finding nothing but a wall in between.

                “You know what,” he quipped then. “I’m gonna make this real easy for _everybody_ , okay?”

                “Peter, what--?”

                They both turned to see the shorter man suddenly vault across the garden, making his way at top speed across the grounds, heading towards the front gates.

                “Peter! Wait!” Remy shouted after him, starting off at a run and leaving Jean standing in their wake, looking confused.

               

                Peter was surprised to find that once he got Logan in motion, gravity seemed to take over. He was bounding across the grounds faster than he ever could have in his own body, feeling the thud of his heavy footfalls across the grass. He wondered vaguely if he could actually continue on all fours as still be as swift, but the idea was quickly pushed from his mind.

                He smelled gasoline and fumes and leather and those annoying little car air fresheners shaped like pine trees. He glanced hurriedly to his right and noticed a smaller building just off the main drive and recognized it as a garage. He knew Logan had a motorcycle…he wondered if it would be in there.

                He turned abruptly, kicking up clods of dirt as he did and bounded for the structure, still hearing Gambit shouting to him from behind.

                “Sorry, LeBeau. I think it best I get away from this place. Before I do any more damage.”

 

***


	5. Chapter 5

 

***

               

                Logan had almost forgotten how far Westchester was from Jersey. He’d also forgotten how _annoying_ Wade was. And how much he hated the closed confines of small cars. And rap music.

                Wade was singing along to some inane song on the radio, waving his hands about and generally driving like a maniac, but at least they were finally out of the city and heading towards the long stretch of country and smaller suburbs that sprawled out between them and the Xavier Institute.

                “Can’t this hunk of junk go any faster?” he muttered, glaring out the window, crunched up in his seat in an awkward, uneasy way. He hated the way Peter’s long limbs seemed to splay out around him. It was odd and weirdly disconnecting.

                “Ah ah, sorry Wolvie. Last thing we need is a speeding ticket.”

                “You have _got_ to be kidding me _,”_ Logan groaned. “Now all the sudden your this law abiding citizen? What the hell are you, Wilson?”

                Wade glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “You want me to level with you?”

                “Not really. I could care less. But I’ll take your yammering over this damn music…” he reached up and pushed the radio off, making Wade pout.

                “Hey! Driver picks the music, _bub_. You keep your hands off the dial. And be e _asy_ with my Petey, you hear! You are wearing precious cargo right now and I won’t have you wrinkling it up with your ever-so-endearing scowl.”

                He reached over and tried to force Logan to smile by squeezing his cheeks. Wolverine punched him back in response, which made the car swerve crazily across the highway lanes for a second before Wade was able to correct.

                “Dammit! Knock it off! Why so touchy?!”

                “Instinct.”

                “Bullshit.”

                The glared at each other. “Alright. You tell me your beef with my boyfriend and I’ll be straight with you about my turning over a new leaf.” He paused and grinned. “Although it would be the first time either of us was _straight_ about anything, right?”

                Logan rolled his eyes.

                Wade sighed, leaning back in his seat. “You’re right. I know the whole ‘good guy’ thing is… alittle off the mark for me. Never been overly interested in playing by the rules and all that. But…a lot of time has passed, Logan. I mean…a _lot_ of time. Maybe somewhere along the way I just—I dunno—got tired of it. Maybe the edgy anti-hero thing lost some of it’s luster after a couple of decades.”

                The man next to him said nothing, but Wade could tell he was listening.

                “And then ya know…things happened. _Peter_ happened. You know, first time we met…I was actually on contract to kill him.”

                Wolverine raised an eyebrow.

                “Long story—anyway—to me he was just some dumb junior super hero and I thought, eh, what the hell right? Easy money, some cheap thrills. But he surprised me. And a few plot twists later…I ended up falling for him.”

                “Riveting.”

                “Oh _excuse_ _me_ , Mr. My Love Life Is Twisted and Complicated! Not _all_ of us can weave such a sweeping tale of fucked-up relationships that it would easily serve a six season soap opera run! Some of us are just…happy to find someone who _gets_ us, okay? Maybe someone who…doesn’t mind that you look like raw hamburger. Or that you’ve got a lot of bad shit in your past. Most of which…was your own fault.”

                It was Wade’s turn to frown.

                Logan bowed his head, resting it momentarily on his good knee and then glanced over at him. “Look. Whatever you’ve got going on with Parker is none of my business. For the record…I’m glad. He seems to be good for you.”

                “You really think so?”

                “Well…you’ve dropped a few notches on SHILEDS most wanted list, from what I understand. That’s always positive.”

                Wade beamed and grabbed him by the back of the head, yanking him across the seat to plant a wet smooch on his cheek, which made Logan cringe in a way that was akin to a cat being dropped in a tub of water.

                “Awwww thanks, Lo-Lo!”

                “Whatever. Just _drive_.” He urged. “I don’t like the idea of your little spider taking up space in my skin, Wilson. Makes me nervous.”

                “Why? You afraid he’s gonna see your main squeezes naked?” Deadpool chuckled, then paused on the thought for a moment, picturing it. “Oooh yeah…that sweet, sweet Cajun ass…ah! And Storm too ooooohh…so much booty. So little time.”

                Logan showed him his fist as if he were about to “snikt” him, but of course nothing happened. Except for him managing to expel a small amount of webbing which stuck to them ceiling.

                “ _No_ , dumbass. You think your little web-shooter has any idea how to control my powers? Those claws cut through steele…scares me to think what he might accidentally slice through if someone startles him…”

                He paled a little, thinking about Peter walking around in his skin, surrounded by all the strange things at the school with no idea what to really expect. Hopefully Remy and Ororo were keeping him preoccupied but even then…

                Wade stepped on the gas and rubbed his shoulder. “Easy, partner. We’ll get there and everything will be fine.”

                They turned off the highway onto a state road and sat for a moment at a sparse intersection. Wade eyed the gas meter and then the fueling station across the street. “Could I tempt you with a swiss roll? Maybe a snowball?”

                Logan shot his face full of webbing and smirked. “Ha. Think I’m finally getting the hang of this.”

                Deadpool managed a muffled laugh, pulling the thick sticky webbing off his face and wiping it on the bottom of the seat. “Alright, alright, suit yourself. But I gotta fuel up or we’ll be limping into town. Sit tight, no funny business.”

                They pulled into the gas station and Wade sauntered out, pulling his mask down over his face as he moved inside. Logan watched him from the car window, restless and wanting to stretch his legs. He climbed out, feeling Peter’s knee twinge as result and limped around the car, glad for some fresh air and lower noise level when he felt Deadpool’s phone begin to buzz in his pocket.

                He plucked it out, scowling at the pink case and the inane anime cat’s face staring blankly back at him and glanced at the caller ID, noting that it was actually labeled under “Sweet Cajun Hot Lips.”

                “I’m going to kick you in the nuts…” he muttered before answering it.

                _“Wade!”_ Remy’s voice snapped over the line, making his lover blink.

                “Remy? What’s wrong?”

                _“Wait…who…Logan, is dat you?”_

                “Such as it is, darlin’. What’s wrong?” Howlett asked, his voice tightening. He could feel the way Peter’s insides knotted from nervousness, the prickle of hairs on his skin standing up, goosebumps pimpling his flesh.

                _“Uh…well, Peter decided dat ya’ll were taking too long and decided to head your direction.”_

Logan felt his head throb. “Really? You couldn’t--?”

                _“I tried, cher, but…dat boy knows how to put his foot in his mouth, lets say dat. Anyway, he’s coming your way…on your bike.”_

Wolverine growled, which sounded strange in Peter’s decidedly un-feral like voice. “WHAT?”

                _“Just be on de look out! We’re following behind best we can, but we lost him a couple of roads back. Where are you and Wade now?”_

“Some shitty gas station off the interstate. I’ll keep an eye out…”

                That knot was getting tighter and suddenly he felt like the world around him was sharpening in a strange way, causing him to turn his focus towards what seemed to be the source of his sudden anxiety.

                Remy’s voice seemed to fade away entirely as he looked on at none other than Mesmero himself appeared at the edge of the parking lot, grinning broadly.

                “You have got to be fucking _kidding me_ …” he snarled, stuffing the phone back into his pocket and dropping into a defensive stance, ready to charge forward, claws flying…only to recall how at a loss he was.

                “You got a lot of goddamn nerve showing your face around here!” he barked, “You think the little _stunt_ you pulled is gonna stop me from slicing you to ribbons?”

                Here the other man paused, scratching curiously at his chin, narrowing his eyes faintly at the other Mutant who seemed ready to leap at him. “Hmm, not quite the greeting I was expecting from the illusive Spider Man.”

                Logan tensed further, realizing that Mesmero seemed to recognize Parker out of his costume. That was definitely dangerous, but something else was off. His eyes flickered faintly to the rest of the station, coming to realize that the world around him had slowed to a halt, manipulated by the telepath’s abilities. He was on his own.

                “Spider Man ain’t here, bub.” He grunted. “But don’t think just cause I ain’t got my claws that I won’t rearrange that ugly face of yours.”

                “…Wolverine?”

                Logan growled in frustration and leapt at him, flinging himself into a flip and then a kick, which caught the other man in the shoulder. They both fell back and Logan landed, yelping in pain, and managed to turn, ready to deal another blow, only to find himself suddenly hoisted into the air, paralyzed by the villain’s telekinetic manipulation.

                “And here I thought I only managed to scramble your thoughts…” the other man chuckled thoughtfully. “I guess I forgot how deeply susceptible feral Mutants are to telepathic manipulation. How funny!”

                He slammed Peter’s body into the ground and Logan howled in pain, feeling the pavement biting and tearing at him, his bones aching from the shock. But at least the hold was broken…though for the moment he could do nothing about it, being utterly winded.

                “Amusing as I find this, _Logan,_ I’m afraid I don’t have time to deal with you and the rest of Xavier’s pet projects today. _Where_ is Peter Parker?”

                “Fuck off…” Logan grunted, spitting blood.

                Mesmero grabbed him and shook him like a rag doll. “How about I turn this little rabble of innocent bystanders on you then hmmm? Or maybe I’ll just keep them cheerfully in place while I set the whole place on fire. I’m pretty sure I saw several small children in that car over there…it would be a shame to watch them—“

                _BAM!_

                Mesmero received such a powerful plow to the face that it knocked him off his feet and sent him rolling across the parking lot, finally coming to a stop when he collided with the air tank at the edge of the lot.

                Wade was standing there, the hilt of his katana in hand, looking deadly as ever. “No one threatens to bbq little kids while I’m around, asshole. By the way, your tattoo job is fucking AWFUL.”

***

 

                Meanwhile, Peter was speeding along the back roads, hoping to stay under the radar and out of plain sight.

                Not an easy task, considering the way he looked in Logan’s short, tough form, blazing along on the classic 1940’s like something out of an 80’s post-apocalyptic movie.

                He was feeling shaken after what had happened at the mansion, uncertain what to make of his bizarre encounter with Jean Grey. He’d never met the woman in person before, but somehow he doubted that was anything close to normal for her.

                She had been right though…about everything.

                And that just left him feeling even more sick to his stomach. He needed to get to Wade and get this mess sorted out.

                Common sense would have reminded him that doing so would require Xavier’s help, but at that moment he could only think of getting out of the line of fire as it were.

                Finally, he pulled up to a small, dingy gas station at the edge of the road. There was nothing else around for miles except a few houses and plenty of fields. Peter had almost forgotten what life looked like out of Manhattan’s urban jungle.

                He pulled up at the edge of the lot and just sat there for a moment, feeling the lingering tremor from the bike’s vibrations in his hands and legs, breathing in the heavy scents of exhaust and gasoline, undercut by dirt and fresh green grass. All the smells made him feel faintly dizzy.

                He groaned quietly and leaned against his handle bars, letting his head droop. “Parker, what the hell did you get yourself into this time?” he muttered. “You’re supposed to win people over with your goofy jokes and your all American charm…not somehow unearth their deepest insecurities and turn them on you.”

                He pouted, knowing it was childish, but reminding himself that no one was around. “I just want to go home.”

                He heard another rumble then as another bike pulled into the lot. This one was a good deal flashier and a bit on the eccentric side, a low rider that was painted brown and yellow with what looked like fangs sculpted around the headlight.

                The rider himself was just as tough and eccentric looking, a tall figure who stood easily a head an half above Wolverine’s compact frame, with a head of long ragged blonde hair. He wore a long leather duster, fur edged around the collar, with jeans and boots, and under that the thread-bare remains of grey t-shirt that did little to hide how heavily muscled he was.

                Wolverine’s sensitive nose started to twitch, picking up on something that was firing off some weird reaction in the feral’s body. He felt his stomach tighten faintly, his ears perk up. It was almost like Logan’s body knew this smell…like on some weird primal instinctual level that even the lack of his consciousness couldn’t ignore.

                Peter watched as the man stood there for a moment, fueling up his tank, and then turned his head abruptly in his direction, staring at him directly.

                For a second the man’s eyes widened, and he _grunted_ , sounding almost as animalistic as Logan did.

                Peter tensed, finding himself sitting up a little straighter, even puffing out his chest slightly. “Uh…” he fumbled. “Cool bike, bro.”

                He cringed. Inward and outward. Oh GOD. Had he always been this damn awkward? Somehow he had thought he possessed much more finesse than this…

                The blonde man raised an eyebrow, remaining where he was, eyes fixed on him. Peter cleared his throat and tried to recover, “I mean…that’s a nice custom job you got there. Did you do it yourself? Looks pretty badass.” He patted the bike beneath him lightly, “I prefer the classics myself.”

                Nothing at first, then a smile started at the corner of the other man’s lips and he _laughed._ It started as a chuckle and then rolled into something deeper.

                Peter laughed too, though he wasn’t sure why. Nothing about this seemed particularly funny. Except that he was failing spectacularly at being Wolverine. Or a person for that matter.

                The other biker moved towards him then in slow, almost stalking movements, still grinning that broad, almost eerie smile. Something told Peter that this guy was bad news, but he couldn’t seem to move away. The smell of him was somehow familiar to Logan’s body. It was sending all sorts of odd signals to his brain and Peter couldn’t quite decipher if he should run away from or _to_ the man.

                Either way, the feeling was unsettling.

                “Small world,” the other man rumbled then, his deep guttural voice sending a little thrill through Peter’s stomach. “But we all always did have a way of finding each other again, didn’t we runt?”

                “Do I, uh…know you?” he grinned nervously, noticing now that larger man had teeth that appeared sharped at the incisors…like fangs.

                The other grunted again and blinked. “What did you say?”

                “Sorry…” he fumbled, then frowned cursing himself. Wolverine didn’t apologize for things, he needed to _stop_. He squared his jaw and shoulders. “That is, I guess it’s been awhile. I meet a lot of people, can’t be expected to keep track of everyone.”

                Another laugh. This one louder and longer, roaring up from his belly.

                “Are—are you fucking s _erious!?_ ” the stranger bellowed, wiping tears from his eyes as he chortled, his fangs becoming more and more visible. “What happened to you , Logan…Weapon X find ya again? Give ya good fresh clean slate?”

                “Who are you?” Peter demanded, more defensively this time, feeling that tingle between his knuckles.

                “Aw runt, yer breakin’ my heart…” the other man replied. “Didn’t think ya forget yer old pal Victor so easily. Not after all we’ve been through.”

 

***


	6. Chapter 6

 

***

 

                When you have been around as long as Victor Creed has, few things continue to surprise you. He had come to expect that life was endlessly unpredictable and that any number of strange things could happen on any given day and any stagnation in between was just there to make you let your guard down.

                It seemed like it had taken him ages to finally escape Mystique’s clutches after his last encounter with Wolverine, Deadpool and the other X-Men. And he knew he should have counted himself lucky that suffering under Raven’s thumb for a few weeks was all he had to endure after how close Logan had brought him to the brink. It wasn’t often Victor got a glimpse of his mortality—considering his life would not end in a natural manner any time soon.

                Now that he was finally fully healed, he was hoping from place to place, thinking of what the next step was. Sinister wouldn’t let him remain at large for long, he was sure, and there was his beta to think about…but he didn’t dwell on that thought too long as it caused an tight anxious knot in his chest.

                But now here he stood, minding his own business at some po-dunk gas station in the middle of rural New York, only to have Logan drop right into his lap. Maybe he should take it as a sign that he wasn’t quite finished with things on the outside just yet.

                Or maybe he was just that hungry for pain and punishment.

                Yet…it seemed like that was going to be the very last thing on his dear estranged half-sibling’s mind that day.

               

                Creed circled him as he sat on the bike, reeking of fear scent and nervous sweat, and looking all kinds of confused. Creed breathed in Logan’s scent a little deeper and felt his head go light for a moment; that scent always snared him, no matter the situation. To Victor, the thrill he felt every time he breathed that scent just confirmed that Logan would never really escape him. He would always be part of his pack. He would always belong to him, no matter how much he tried to deny and escape it.

                “You really don’t know who I am?”

                The black haired man looked at him skeptically, blue eyes narrowed, discerning, anxious…unable to hold Victor’s gaze for longer than a second.

                Strange.

                “Sorry,” he muttered again, almost sounding like he was trying to force his voice deeper. “Maybe if you helped jog my memory,”

                Victor came to a stop, staring.

                Okay…that was practically an invitation. He grinned and motioned for the smaller man to leave the bike behind and follow him. With some hesitation, the other feral complied, following Creed around the side of the small building. No one else was around, not even another car had passed them on the road. Wherever the pump attendant was, he wasn’t going to be a very good witness. Which was lucky for him, as otherwise he would make short work of him.

                He paused again once they were thoroughly in the shadow of the old brick building and listened, lifting his head, just to be sure no one else was around. He wouldn’t put it past Wolverine to set a trap for him.

                Finally he looked back at Howlett, who was standing there, awkward and impatient. “Look, buddy, I don’t really have time for—“

                “What are you up to?” Creed snarled, grabbing the smaller man by the shoulder and forcing him back against the rough brick wall and pinning him there.

                “What?” his voice cracked a little and he cringed at it in hindsight.

                “You ain’t right.” Victor muttered, moving closer, golden eyes a bit too dark and a bit too close. Peter shivered faintly under the intensely intimate gaze. “So what is it? You decide to fake another round of memory loss to see if you could draw me back in? Let your little X-Men buddies _arrest_ me, or hand me over to SHEILD or whatever it is you and those spandex clad retards do…”

                “Why would I do that?” Peter asked, getting the feeling now that something else was going on here, something that made him stiffen and tense. This wasn’t just some old grudge or old flame of Logan’s he had the bad luck to run into.

                Victor’s eyes narrowed further, almost into cat-like slits. Peter felt another shiver and started to pull away, only to have the larger man grab him by the chin and     kissing him roughly. Peter groaned from the force of it, and the rough way the man invaded his mouth with his tongue.

                But any resistance he gave was only met with a firmer hold and close press of the larger man’s body against his.

                The kiss was demanding and rough, purposefully trying to force a reaction out of him. Peter gripping the bigger man’s shoulders, knotting his hands in the man’s jacket and managed to force him back just a breath to allow him to catch his.

                “Whoa..whoa…easy, big fella.” He rasped, feeling like his lips were swelling. “There’s something you should know before you try that again…”

                He nudged Victor away but took his hand instead, looking around quickly to see if they were being watched, then started tugging him towards the forested lot behind the gas station, where the shadows were deep and the sound of the road was more muffled.

                As they walked, both men detected the quickening pulse in the other, the smell of fresh blood being pulled through veins, sweat and adrenaline seeping from pores. Yet Logan’s fingers were tightly gripped around his and Creed didn’t try to break away.

                They stopped only when they were a good distance from the road, finding a small clearing among the leaning and cluttered pines.

                Logan came to a stop but didn’t turn to look at Creed, letting his hand drop from the other man’s. “I don’t know who you are, Victor, but I get this feeling that—“

                He turned and spun hard, launching his foot into Creed’s chest, knocking the man back by several feet, skidding across the grass and crashing into a tree. The claws came free on their own as Peter landed in a crouch, snarling. “-- you’re bad news for both of us.”

                Victor laughed and came charging back at him, claws shining, suddenly longer than before and fangs far more prominent. Yet there was a sort of hellish glee in his eyes that made Peter leap away. He was able to avoid the other man’s claws, but only barely, and he cursed the weight of this heavy body, longing for the agility of his own form again.

                He swung at Creed, claws gleaming, but his aim was poor. He missed the man by a mile and when he went to hit him again, Victor gave him a sharp uppercut to the jaw that sent him reeling.

                “Come on, Logan! That the best you got?!” Victor laughed, clearly unintimidated by the other feral. “What’s wrong with you!? You’re slow, clumsy—“

                Creed swiped at him and caught him across the chest and Peter bellowed as he felt blood drawn, and fell back, managing to rebound off a tree trunk and hurling himself through the air. He came crashing down on the blonde mutant, only to be caught and then flung away and sent flipping and spiraling to the ground.

                His claws, which he was still unable to retract, gutting the earth below him and he got up clumsily, trying to regain control. But Creed was already charging on him again and Peter acted out of instinct, turning and punching the claws deep into the man’s chest.

                He felt the squelch of muscle sink beneath his blades and he stood there, frozen and terrified as blood began to seep from the three deep wounds. He’d never stabbed anyone before…he’d never _killed_ anyone before…Oh God.

                Victor’s hand came up then around his wrist and squeezed it painfully, forcing him back. Peter popped free, his own hand covered in fresh warm blood. He looked up with wide, startled eyes to see Creed, still standing there, laughing at him.

                _Laughing_. _At. Him._

                Creed gnashed his teeth at him like a snapping dog, grabbed his arm and twisted it forcefully. Peter howled in pain and watched as the man forcefully made his muscles retract his claws into his flesh again.

                Then he flipped the man onto his back and pinned him there, landing roughly on top of him. Peter lay there, winded and woozy, still speckled with fresh blood. But the blonde on top of him barely seemed to notice or care that his chest wounds were still open and seeping…

                Or were they?

                Peter wasn’t sure if he was just seeing things, or if the man’s chest wounds already seemed to be closing…

                Of course. Healing factor.

                Victor roared and grabbed his throat leaning close, “You look like Wolverine,” he began, “and you sure as hell do smell and taste like Wolverine…but you ain’t Wolverine.”

                He raised his claws to Peter’s face. The smaller man squirmed, trying to push the bigger body off him, but for all Wolverine’s strength he could not get any leverage and the man was squeezing his throat viciously tight, making it harder to focus.

                “Better start talking…”

                “Hard to do when you’re crushing my windpipe…” Peter rasped.

                Victor lessened his hold just slightly, but kept the other feral firmly in place. “So what happened this time,” he muttered, “Logan would never be so clumsy and stupid with his claws. So what are ya? Some clone or decoy?”

                “Nope,” Peter flinched, “this is authentic Wolverine hide…but uh…there was a little mishap with a freaky telepath with too many face tattoos…”

                For a moment Creed looked perplexed, and annoyed, and his claws scrapped across Peter’s throat, pricking his skin and leaving hot red lines. Then something seemed to dawn on him and he sat back a little.

                “Wait a minute…I _thought_ I heard something about a little skirmish in the Big Apple involving you and that hack Mesmero…so that means…” he leaned a bit closer, “…you must be the itsy-bitsy Spiderman.”

                He laughed again and as he sat back, wracked with giggles, Peter could see that his chest wound was now completely healed. “Holy shit…so Logan ain’t in there at all, is he? It’s just you, walking around in his skin. What a trip…”

                Peter squirmed under him, trying to get up, but Victor shoved him to the ground again. “You’re not going anywhere, little man. Wolverine and I got unfinished business, and since he ain’t home…guess you’ll have to do.”

                “What are you gonna do?” Peter muttered, “Kill me?”

                “Think we both know that would be pointless,” Victor muttered, he balled back his fist and Peter didn’t have time to brace himself before the blow landed hard across his face. Everything went black.

               

                Victor sat back, shaking his fist, which ached from it’s harsh collision with Logan’s adamantium bones. He glanced around the woods again and then stood, dusting himself off before picking up the unconscious man and slinging him over his shoulder. “Let’s take this some place a bit more private.”

 

***

 

                Wade went in charging, sword drawn, ready to deliver a world of pain unto the telepath. He got close, but the smaller, armored man managed to created a psi-shield around himself, blocking the blow. Wade howled and hacked away at it, hoping to weaken the barrier, but it was useless. The next second the bubble burst and Deadpool went rolling away from the rippling affect.

                “Don’t get close!” Logan barked, picking himself up off the ground.

                “Wise advice!” Mesmero sneered at him and flicked his hand in his direction, suddenly releasing the frozen citizens from their trance. But just like before, the mob, under the telepath’s direction, turned instantly violent, moving to detain and brutalize the two heroes.

                “Goddammit, not this again!” Wolverine muttered, fists flying as he forced the new mob away from him. Knowing he wouldn’t be a match for the throng in his weakened state, and unable to use much force for fear of injury, he did the next best thing, which was scramble to high ground. He crawled ontop of a parked SUV, putting himself out of reach of the grasping crowd.

Wilson was struggling just as much, falling into defense mode, which wasn’t exactly his forte. His swords and guns were useless against people he was trying to spare…

“This asshole fights dirty!” he muttered, choking as a petite woman in a cardigan wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to drag him to the ground, biting at his face and neck. He yelped as he turned and punched her in the face, sending her to the ground. “He’s making me punch socker moms!”

Logan looked nervously to the occupants inside the SUV he was seated on top of, small screaming children who had no idea what was happening. The people around them were now shaking the car, attempting to flip it over.

“KNOCK IT OFF!” He kicked back a man who had managed to climb onto the hood and then flicked his wrist upward the way he had seen Peter do it before, allowing a thick spray of webbing to fly free. It captured several of the customers and flattened them to the ground, like animals in a net.

“You got it man! You keep catching the little fish, why I go for the big kahoona!” Wade grinned, charging once more towards Mesmero, who had reformed his protective shield.

                But the Assassin was nothing if not clever at his craft. He knew he needed a distraction to get close enough to deal a blow, so he rolled a small grenade across the pavement towards the villain as he grappled with the ensuing army of hypnotized citizens.

                The bomb, which was small and loud and emitted a thick stream of blinding smoke, erupted at Mesmero’s feet, forcing his concentration to break.

                The mob suddenly lost its direction, drifting aimlessly, unsure what had happened. Wade went in for the kill—only to find that the man was ready for him.

                “WADE NO!”

                Mesmero managed to catch Wilson just as he was about to land the blow. Wade couldn’t look away quickly enough—he was snared.

                “Hmm, quite a piece of work this one is,” the tattooed man mused, glancing over at Logan who was still perched on top of the car, surrounded by dazed and sluggish citizens. “Maybe if you tell me where Peter Parker is, I won’t order him to kill you outright…”

                Logan was on his feet, “You ain’t getting Parker, or me, bastard. Go ahead, read my mind, sure you’ll find a nice slide show of what I’m gonna do to ya when I get my claws back…”

                Wade marched towards him then, Katana at the ready. Logan hurriedly sprayed him with webbing, which made him stagger, but then he hit him again and managed to pin him to the pavement. But the hold wouldn’t last long—Wade was already hacking through the sticky substance with his sword. He’d be free in minutes…

                Wolverine held his breath and jumped, pointing his webbing towards the ceiling of the station canopy. He swung out, hard and fast, clipping Mesmero as he passed and flinging himself up high enough to spin and flip onto the roof.

                He heard the sound of bullets beginning to ping there way up through the metal top, and he kept moving to avoid being shot. He ran as best he could and leapt from the overhang above the pumps onto the roof of the station itself.

                Hitting the roof top hard he felt his knee give out entirely and he fell with a cry, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get back up.

                So many days he had cursed his healing factor. Now he would give anything for it.

                Worst of all, here came Wilson, right on que, sword swinging. “Wade! Snap out of it!” he shouted, shooting another glob of webbing into Deadpool’s masked face.

                Wilson ripped it off, taking part of the mask with him and fell on the other man, who tried to land a punch across his jaw, only to have his fist caught and squeezed tightly. “Ahh!”

                Deadpool dragged him off the ground, holding him up by the arm, watching him dangle and seemed ready to run him through.

                “Wade! Wade don’t do this! You kill me and you may lose Peter too! WILSON!”

                Mesmero appeared beside them then, “Feel like talking _now_ Wolverine?”

                “What the hell do you want Parker for?!” the smaller man winced.

                “I was planning on using him as a means to infiltrate SHIELD and steal some valuable weapons…but I wonder what would happen if I simply _erased_ you from his mind all together? Start with a completely blank slate? Yes, I think we’ll see—“

                Wade’s fist suddenly snapped back and caught the green tattooed man straight in the nose. Blood spurted from him as he staggered and then crashed down against the gutter before rolling off the rooftop and landing harshly on the sidewalk below with a scream and a groan.

                Deadpool glanced over the edge, noting that the man had definitely broken several bones, but was still probably alive. “Nobody but _nobody_ makes me hurt the people I love, ass-face.”

                He eased Logan back to the roof top. “Had ya goin’ there, didn’t I?” he grinned.

                “Yeah, real convincing, they should give you the Oscar…” Wolverine groaned. “I think your boyfriend needs to get to a hospital…something is definitely torn off that bone…”

                “Easy, easy, I got ya,” Wade hushed, tearing off the sleeve of his uniform to make a splint for Logan’s injured leg. Once he’d secured it to the best of his ability, he gingerly picked the smaller man up and climbed down the roof with him.

                The remaining citizens were starting to come too now, all looking deeply dazed and confused. “We need to split, before people start pointin’ fingers…” Wilson muttered, moving hurriedly towards his car and depositing Logan inside.

                “What about Mesmero?”

                Wade glanced back at the wreck of a man that was still lying bloody and unconscious on the pavement. With a hefty sigh he rushed over and dragged him up, tossing him in the backseat.

                “Mind wrapping this guy up for later, Wolvie?” he asked.

                Logan nodded, steadying his hand as he coated the unconscious villain in webbing that sufficiently fastened him to the seat. For good measure he covered the man’s eyes as well. “Excellent! Shelob herself couldn’t do better!” Wade grinned. “I think you’re getting the hang of that stuff.”

                “Focus,” Logan grunted, sounding weaker than before, voice strained with pain. “We’ve gotta find Parker and get this mess straightened out. Not sure I’m gonna survive any more surprises.”

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *apologizes for spotty updates guys, I'm dealing with some major mental health issues and trying to take care of myself. I hope to return to more frequent updates soon. Thanks again for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

 

***

 

                Peter was coming to himself, feeling oddly flushed and tingly…

                For a moment or two he couldn’t quite remember where he was, or what he had been doing. He felt hands, large and rough, skimming his body, and a mouth that felt like it was everywhere, lips that were nuzzling, licking, tasting biting, moving down his lower torso and skimming across his thighs before engulfing him fully and making him moan and shake.

                “Wade…” he mumbled, still not quite fully aware.

                He felt nails rake down his skin.

                No. Not nails, _claws_.

                He gasped in surprise of the painful thrill that the sensation sent through him and wrenched back. It was only then that he realized his arms were twisted awkwardly behind his back, and that he seemed to be lying on a rather cold, bare floor that smelled like mildew and gasoline and stale coffee.

                It was dark, but as his eyes began to focus he realized he was in a small, cramped room that contained nothing but a desk, several security monitors, a safe and a filing cabinet.

                He was on the floor, on his back, with someone bent between his legs.

                His jeans had been forced down to his ankles, further serving to bind his feet and the blonde man from earlier was crouched between them, scratching his beastly hands down his exposed skin and teasing him with his mouth.

                Peter shouted and tried to twist away, but was at once put back into place by Creed’s forceful hands. “Where ya goin’, sweetheart? I ain’t got to the best part yet…”

                “GET OFF ME! YOU SICK ASSHOLE! LET ME GO!”

                “Sure that’s what you want?”

                Peter tried to kick him, but he couldn’t get any leverage as Creed forced his knees down and dug his claws in deep, making the other man howl. But the pain was a momentary distraction as the next minute the larger man bowed his head again and took him completely into his mouth, sucking hard.

                Peter’s hips sputtered at the forceful sensation, feeling the heat of his mouth and the pull that made him groan. Creed did this twice more than eased back a bit and began to lap at him lightly before enveloping him again and emitting a long low purr from the back of his throat.

Peter shouted, feeling his eyes roll back in his head at the vibration sensation that covered his hot, sensitive skin from root to tip. He hadn’t known anything could feel so intense. Wolverine’s nerves were on fire and he felt like any second he was going to explode.

Creed eased back, just a little, and looked up at him, grinning as he retreated and wet his fingers quickly before reaching between Logan’s splayed legs. “You may be new to this whole thing, but I know this body almost as well as my own. I’ve had it so many times that I know all the little spots…all the ways to make it squirm. Whether you really want it to or not…”

“That’s…that’s….fucked up, man!”

Victor just grinned and dipped his head again, fingers working slowly inward, teasing and testing him as Peter continued to try to break the hold and free himself.

It was difficult however, when his senses were being battered so brutally that he could scarcely remember to breathe, much less focus.

“Ahh…aahhhh mmmmm! S-stop! St-t-oooop! This is wrong, it’s wrong! I’m not Wolverine and even if-if I waaass…oh GOD….what you’re doing is--!?”

Victor bit his thigh and earned a little yelp of pain, “Shut up, or I’ll give that mouth of yours something to do.”

Peter felt Logan’s face flush hotter red and he pulled and strained against the chains around his arms. Where Victor had found chains and padlocks in a gas station he wasn’t sure but he had used them effective enough.

Two of Creed’s fingers worked their way inside him then, making him shout and moan, angry and brought to the edge of overstimulation from all of Logan’s heightened senses. “Don’t! Don’t!”

Creed growled at him and pressed his fingers a bit further upward, finding the little bundle of nerves inside and grinding lightly against them in a way that made Peter shudder, eyes rolling.

“Ahhhh! Ahh oh God! Oh God I can’t--!”

Victor bit him on the thigh again and gripped him hard, working his cock and fingers inside him until Peter arched off the floor, thighs shaking and shot down his throat.

The orgasm lasted longer than Peter expected….leaving him quivering and breathless with his vision slipping in and out of focus as he felt Victor lick him clean. He whimpered at the almost painful overstimulation that shot through him each time he felt the scrape of his tongue and teeth over his slick skin.

“Bet ya didn’t know you could cum that hard, eh little Spider? Things are a bit more intense on our end of the mutant spectrum…or so I’ve always found.”

“You….you’re a fucking… _monster_ …” Peter panted, feeling tears in his eyes, skin flushed and hot. It was all too much, and he couldn’t stop shaking…the smell of sex and the other man’s weird musk was filling his nose and making him even more hazy and confused.

He had to get out of here, in one piece….how was he ever going to explain this to Logan?

Or Wade…

That thought filled his stomach with ice.

Victor could smell the shame and fear that suddenly flooded him, changing the smell of his sweat. He laughed and ghosted his hand down his back, drawing the bound man in closer, rubbing against him crudely as he leaned in to kiss him.

Peter wrenched his head away with a curse, but the other Mutant just bit him on the neck instead, leaving a hot, throbbing love bite there and watching as it healed itself. “What are you so worried about, little Spider?” the man taunted. “You should be thanking me. Since you’re borrowing Logan’s body, I can go as hard and rough as I want with ya, and not leave a trace of it. Doubt I’d be able to have as much fun if you were still in your own skin and bones.”

Peter glared hard at him and Victor watched fascinated as his brother’s face took on a strange new nuisance of rage. “Thank you? _Thank_ you!? You wanna know how I should _thank_ people like you!?” He rolled back, managing to get his legs up around Creed’s shoulders, and trapped the man’s head between his thighs harshly. Throwing all of his weight into the movement, he twisted as hard and fast as he could and heard a satisfying crack.

Victor slumped, his head at a slightly awkward angle as Peter let him fall to the floor. In spite of himself, the other man whimpered and yelped. Spiderman didn’t kill people…but Creed wasn’t just _people._

He kicked the body away and struggled, trying to get his hands free, but they were knotted too tightly. His fingers were numb and useless, fumbling.

If he could just get his damn _pants_ up…

He felt tears falling across his face and he grit his teeth angrily, but that made them only come harder and faster.

He was afraid. He was humiliated. He was _angry._

This was not supposed to happen. If he was in his own body, this wouldn’t be happening! He would have sensed off the bat that something was _wrong_ with Creed, he wouldn’t have gotten all muddled and confused. He wouldn’t have given the man a chance to get close.

But even as he thought this he knew it was a lie.

This happened by no fault of his own. By no failing of body or mind. This happened because Victor Creed saw an opportunity and took it.

Peter tried to collect himself; he was making slow progress with the chain now. He flexed Wolverine’s arms as wrists as hard as he dared, feeling the strain and the bite of the metal of his skin. Bellowing with frustration he finally managed to break the bond, sending warped links of metal falling to the ground.

Hurriedly he yanked up his jeans and underwear and backed away from Creed’s fallen figure, staring and nervous.

The man hadn’t moved. Why would he? Peter had broken his neck.

That thought chilled him. He’d never used that move before. It was something Wade had taught him, inadvertently, during a few of their missions together.

Peter wrapped his arms around himself, hugging the unfamiliar body in which he was caged. He felt sick, knowing what Creed had been able to coax out of him. Knowing that for all the terror he had felt, pleasure was also there. It was immensely confusing. Even more so that Logan’s body still seemed to be reeling from the treatment, still subconsciously craving it.

He swallowed down another anguished growl and turned towards the door of the tiny office, finding that his thighs felt too tense and his knees shook and wobbled. He supported himself against the door frame and nudged the door open. Maybe there was phone somewhere…

He smelled it before, but hadn’t recognized what it was until his eyes confirmed it.

Blood was everywhere.

The door opened into the small isle between the counter and the back of the clerk’s station. What remained of the clerk was on the floor. It seemed Creed had ripped his throat out.

Peter’s vision swam at the sight of the gore and he let himself slide down the door frame, staring at the body and the blood splatter that splashed across the counters and cigarette cases. He covered his nose with his palm, trying to stifle Wolverine’s hyper senses.

“Okay…okay…this is…bad. Really…really bad…” he mumbled to himself.

_Get ahold of yourself. Think. You can still walk. You can run. Get out of here. There’s nothing else you can do now. **Just get out of here.**_

Peter nodded to himself, pushing himself back up the wall and trying to steady himself. He made a few deliberate steps around the counter, forcing himself to avoid looking at the body. He focused his eyes on the front door, seeing the rain falling beyond the glass, creating a shimmering curtain that made the world outside a hazy grey blur.

Victor had wedged something in the door handles. A crow bar, which was now warped and bent around. It didn’t matter. The doors were glass, Peter could probably punch through them if he tried…

A few more deliberate steps, moving so slow it was like he was wading through quick sand. It wasn’t Logan’s body that slowed him this time. It was the damage to Peter’s mind that made it difficult to function.

He knew he had to go and find help. But what was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to explain to the X-Men…

How as he supposed to explain to _Wade_ what had happened? How was he going to justify running off, recklessly and thoughtlessly the way he had? How was he going to explain how he had walked right into the waiting claws of a known supervillain, never realizing who he was, blind without his Spidey-sense to lean on? How was he supposed to explain what Creed had done to him?

Logan’s body was fiercely strong. Why hadn’t he been able to break free during? Why hadn’t it occurred to him the moment he woke up and saw what that man was doing between his legs?

Because who the hell thinks of that first? Who in god’s name _expects_ this?

No one.

Still somehow he felt he should have acted quicker, kept his head, not given into the feeling…

He wanted to throw up.

He steadied himself on the counter, only to find his hand suddenly resting in more blood. He cursed and wiped it off hurriedly on his jeans.

Looking up he noticed a landline off to the side of the register. He grabbed it, yanking the base as far as the old dusty cord would reach and started dialing the first number that came to mind. Wade’s of course.

It had just started to ring and Peter felt a hard, hot lump in his throat. “Dammit…dammit pick up!”

He felt a little tingle go up his spine. It wasn’t quite his spidey sense, but it would do.

He turned his head just in time to see Creed, very much alive and very _pissed off_ come charging at him from the office doorway with a howl.

Peter shouted and dropped the phone as the larger feral lunged at him, and felt Logan’s claws unleash themselves. This time, he managed to get them up, creating a defensive barrier between him and Sabretooth.

They collided with bone jarring ferocity and tumbled back into the shelves, knocking them over and sending the contents everywhere. Peter came up swinging, but his foe kept just out of reach of his claws. But he came harder and harder at the man, his outrage driving him on past the point of caution or discretion. There was a hot flame in his stomach, a flame that was fueled by the idea of setting his new claws into his attacker and making him pay for taking what wasn’t his.

Victor seemed to smell it on him, and much to his disgust, seemed excited by it. He laughed and licked his lips, managing to block or parry most of Parker’s blows.

“Don’t think for one minute that because you got his claws that you’re a _match_ for me little man!” Victor howled. “He and I used to do this dance all the time…but somehow he never got the drop on me. What makes you think _you_ can!?”

“BECAUSE YOU PISSED ME OFF!” Peter roared back.

He raked the claws across the man’s chest, shredding his shirt and earning a spray of blood and then managed to kick him back. Creed stumbled but recovered quickly, taking another leap at him, bounding off the counter top to gain some air.

Parker grabbed the fire extinguisher from the wall and swung it like a baseball bat, smashing it into the man’s face. It exploded, filling the room with foam and smoke that blinded both of them.

He fumbled his way through the fog, coughing and choking on it and trying to make his way to the exit. Creed’s big hands materialized through the haze and grabbed him, throwing him bodily across the room. He crashed into the coolers of the back wall, obliterating the doors and shelves, finding himself falling into the chilled storage space behind.

Groaning and stunned, he shook the glass from his clothes and hair, trying to collect himself, but Creed was already in the doorway, looking down at him with those bright gold eyes.

“You’re a fighter, I’ll give ya that.” He reached down and grabbed Peter up with both fists and dangled him in front of him. “But you’re still out of your element. So it comes down to this…you’re gonna come with me, and we’re gonna find the real Logan. Maybe if I slap you two together it’ll shock ya back into yer right places.”

“That only works in bad teen movies,” Peter grunted and Victor snarled at him like a lion, baring his teeth and leaning close to his throat as if in warning.

“ _Whatever._ When I get him back in his body, he’s coming with me. You can either walk away from the situation…” his claws extended further. “Or I can skin ya then and there. What sounds good?”

“You don’t scare me,” Peter whispered, “You’re nothing but a thug, a rapist, _a stupid animal_!”

Victor pounded him hard into the wall until it felt like his head must certainly break open like an egg, yet somehow it didn’t.

 _“That body is mine, do you understand me!?”_ he howled, words coming out more like barks and screams so that Peter had to struggle to make sense of each word. “It belongs _to_ _me_! That little runt _owes_ me, after all I’ve done for him! HE’S MINE!”

There was a strange sound then, like the faint crackling of a fuse or a firecracker. Both ferals cocked their heads, sensitive ears picking up on the dim noise. Victor glanced over his shoulder, just in time to get a faint glimpse of something pink and glowing pressed against the doors. A second later an explosion followed that effectively opened the barred entrance, blowing away the debris that blocked it. Wind and rain blew in through the door, clearing away the lingering smoke as Gambit, stepped inside, followed immediately by Deadpool, guns in hand, both barrels aimed squarely at Creed’s face.

“PUT. HIM. DOWN.”

 

***

 

_Fifteen minutes ago,_

 

                Remy was frantic, driving way past the speed limit as they barreled down the highway, trying force the GPS locator to pick up the signal from Wolverine’s motorcycle. Storm in the passenger seat, her hand gripped at the dash as she glared ahead.

                “He’s gotten too far ahead of us, or something is interfering wit de signal,” LeBeau grumbled, constantly glancing from the road to the monitor, until Ro had to shout at him to keep him from swerving off the road.

                “Remy calm down,”

                “I can’t!” The Cajun snapped, speeding up again. “Something happened with Logan and Wilson, and I can’t get an answer, now Peter is getting farther and farther away--!”

                “I _know,”_ his lover reminded him, “but you killing us will bring us no closer to catching him! Pull over, now!”

                Begrudgingly Gambit obeyed, slowing and pulling the car to the side of the road. He slammed his fists against the steering wheel and shouted in frustration, and the woman beside him reached over and rubbed his shoulder before climbing out of the car.

                “Where’s your phone? See if you can call Wade again.”

                Gambit nodded, digging into his pocket as he climbed out as well, noting that Storm’s eyes were on the skies, which were darkening now as the clouds began to gather and the wind picked up faintly. “A little rain will help slow him down.”

                “You sure about dat?”

                She didn’t answer focusing on her powers as light drizzle began. Remy ducked back into the car and waited for an answer, but there was no reply, the call going straight to Wade’s voicemail.

                “Dammit…somet’ing’s wrong. I can feel it in my gut.”

                Storm nodded, moving to the driver’s side now that a steady rainfall had been established. “I agree with you. Move over,”

                Gambit climbed over the seats to allow her to take the wheel while he continued to try to reach Wilson and Logan. “What happened with Peter and Jean?”

                The Cajun glanced up, “Now’s not de time for dat,”

                “I’m not speaking out jealousy,” she answered, a bit more sharply than she meant, and Remy sensed that this was not entirely true, “but out of concern. Jean has not been herself, I have seen a change in her. One that becomes worse around certain people…haven’t you sensed it?”

                “I keep my distance from her, to be honest. She seems to like it dat way.”

                “That’s troubling in and of itself.”

                She glanced at the locator, noticing now that the signal was growing a bit stronger. “There! There, I think we finally have a lock. He’s about six miles ahead. Is he moving still?”

                “Non, don’t think so.” Remy grinned, “you a genius, cherie.”

                Storm’s eyes narrowed, “No…my rain would not have spread that far so quickly. He was already stopped.”

                The screen began to stutter and seemed to blink in and out again, as if something were interfering with it.

                Above them, they could hear the faint hum of helicopters, flying low in the sky. Remy squinted at them through window.

                “What de hell? Those are military grade…”

                The phone in his hand buzzed and he startled, hurrying to answer it.

                _“Hey Cajun, desperate to talk to me, huh?”_ Wade’s voice came in over the other side.

                “Wade! Tell me Logan is alright! What happened?!”

                _“Easy, easy there sweetheart, we got it all handled!”_ Wade coed, _“We had a little tussle with Mr. Mesmero himself, ya know, had to deal with the whole brain washed zombie bit for a few but uh, yeah we’re all kosher now!”_

                “You have Mesmero! Thank God! What about Wolverine’s body? Any sign of Peter?”

                _“Not yet, but I got some friends who are gonna help out with that.”_

                “What--?”

                Two more helicopters, large ones, the kind that were better for carrying men and weapons than just a small crew.

                Storm looked up nervously, tracking their slow progression across the dark sky. “Remy, those are SHEILD aircrafts.”

                Gambit felt a nervous pinch in his guts, “Wish you had said something before you called in de big guns…” he muttered.

                _“No sweat, LeBeau. It’s all under control. They’ve got an exact location on Petey. I’m sending you the coordinates now, kay? Say uh, not to alarm you, but your boyfriend has a much lower pain threshold than I thought.”_

“What?! What does dat mean!?”

                _“Nothing, its fine, all under control, don’t tell Storm okay? See you in five, kisses!”_

                Gambit stared at his phone more a moment, and then glanced at Storm nervously. The woman flattened her foot against the accelerator.

 

 

                They came to the lonely station a short time later, not entering the lot but pulling to the side of the road, watching the seemingly empty building in silence for a moment. “I see Logan’s bike,” Ororo noted. “But I don’t recognize the other.”

                Remy eyed the other cycle suspiciously, glancing towards the door of the building. “Doesn’t seem to be any movement inside. Maybe he abandoned de bike and went off on foot.”

                “If it was our Logan we were dealing with, I would agree, but I doubt Peter would attempt that unless he was forced to.”

                They saw headlights heading towards them, followed by the low rumble of the SHIELD aircrafts passing above them. The lights veered into the parking lot, and through the curtain of grey they could see Wade’s red costume as he stepped out of the car.

                Both X-Men darted from their car then, still out of view of the station’s windows and doors.

                “Hey ya made it!” Wade grinned as they came close, but both ignored him, turning their attention to the man in the passenger seat, who looked pained and pale. “Logan?!”

                The face of Peter Parker grinned meekly back at them, “This was not _at all_ how I planned to spend my day.” He grumbled.

                Both Remy and Storm wrapped their arms around him, relieved that at least his consciousness was intact.

                “Yeah, yeah, yeah, you three are disgustingly gorgeous and cute all together blah blah blah a triumph of polyamory blah blah, but back to me, cause you know apparently you couldn’t keep my boyfriend in check and now he’s running around loose in a body that should be certified as a tank.”

                “It’s a bit more complicated den dat,” Remy began, but Wade hushed him.

                “No no, don’t speak LeBeau, I get distracted by your dulcet southern tones when you do.” He looked to Ororo, “While you guys were fumbling around, Wolvie and I managed to catch Mesmero. But we don’t got a lot of time.” He glanced up, hearing the aircraft circle past them again.

                “Fury seems to be waiting for us to get Pete.”

                “You should have consulted _us_ before calling in Fury,” Ororo replied, looking clearly annoyed.

                “Parker’s basically an Avenger, and no one was having much luck, so I made a judgement call. Can you say you would have done any different in my place?”

                “Stop bickering,” Logan muttered from the seat, still gripping the now swollen knee. “I’d really like to get back to normal, if anyone wants to tell me where the hell—“ he paused then, staring at the darkened building.

                “Cher? What’s wrong?”

                Logan was staring at the doors, Peter’s strange spider senses sounding off like crazy in his mind, making his skin prickle and his stomach tighten with anxiety. He gripped Remy’s arm. “Something’s not right. This feels like a trap.”

                “Trap?”

                Wade and Storm looked at the building now, noting that it seemed empty, though the lights remained on and no closed sign seemed present. Yet there was no movement that they could see around the counter. “Why would Peter set a trap?”

                Wade turned to look more closely at the window, then moved away from the group, hand on his gun as he made is way towards the station window. Logan was right, something felt off. He glanced back at the other abandoned motorcycle, noting the odd paint job it had.

                Remy was beside him then as he stopped at the edge of the sidewalk. There was no movement from inside, but Wade saw something odd on the glass doors of the cigarette shelves behind the counter.

                “What does that look like to you?” he asked.

                Remy squinted through the dingy window as well, “Not sure.”

                “Looks to me like either someone went crazy with the cherry syrup for the slushie machine, or—“

                They glanced at each other nervously, hearing the aircraft coming in even lower above them this time.

                “Can you get any reading from inside?”

                “What?”

                “I dunno, don’t your damn powers sense people’s feelings?”

                Gambit frowned at him, “Shut up, it ain’t like radar or nothin, I gotta have some kinda contact wit de person first—“ He noticed the strange protrusion from the handles inside the door then. “Someone don’ want us going in dere. And I don’t t’ink it’s Peter.”

                There was movement suddenly, which made both men duck out of sight, listening and watching…

               

***

                “PUT. HIM. DOWN.”

                Victor chuckled, turning to face them, dragging Peter along with him. “Wilson,” the blonde rumbled, “thanks for saving me the trouble of hunting your ass down. I’ve been itching to repay you for dropping me on Mystique’s doorstep.”

                “You’ll be begging for her when I get through with you this time,” Wilson muttered. “DROP HIM.”

                Sabretooth shrugged and tossed Logan’s figure forward, sending him sprawling in front of the two men. Remy started to reach for him, but Wade was already on the floor, scooping the smaller man close.

                “Baby, you okay?”

                Peter gripped him hard, “I’m so sorry…” he rasped. “I didn’t mean for it happen, it just…”

                Both Wade and Remy blinked at the odd response, but it was the Cajun who threw his head in Creed’s direction, eyes wide. He could feel it coming off Peter in waves, the shame, the anger, the confusion. He knew it far too well to confuse these emotions for anything else.

                Victor saw the outrage in his eyes and just licked his lips, then his claws, which were still tacky with blood. “Don’t be jealous, LeBeau. Getting my teeth into that one was like eating imitation bacon. But, heh, he did squirm and squeal like a virgin on prom night all the same.” He looked the Cajun up and down slyly, pretending not to notice the way his red eyes suddenly began to glow as flood of rage-fueled kinetic energy swept over him. “How those scars looking these days?”

                Remy stood up, pulling out his retractable staff from its place in his belt and extending it fully as it glowed brightly with a strong charge of energy.

                “Je vais te teur pour ca!”

                “Blah blah blah…you’re an X-Man now and they don’t—“

                _BLAM!_

                Victor grunted, forced back an inch or two as a bullet ripped through his thigh, then another through his collar bone. He howled and bared his teeth but didn’t fall, though blood was quickly blossoming around his wounds.

                “Asshole! You—“ He didn’t have time to finish his sentence as Remy charged forward, swinging his staff, swinging it first into Creed’s kneecaps, which he heard crack loudly, then again into his face, sending him rolling backwards, crashing into another set of shelves which toppled over on him.

                Gambit was about to go in, knowing that Victor wouldn’t be down for more than a few seconds, but Wade was suddenly beside him, hand on his arm. Remy was so tense he nearly turned and struck him.

                “He’s mine,” Wilson muttered.

                The ruby eyed man was about to protest, but all Wade had to do was glance in his direction. Biting down his own anger, Remy nodded his head and backed off, turning towards where Peter stood in Logan’s battered figure.

                “Wade? Wade what--?”

                “Get him out of here, LeBeau! I don’t want him to see what comes next.”

                Gambit nodded, hoisting Peter up and rushing towards the door, even as the other man tried to resist, not wanting to leave Wade alone.

                Wilson turned his attention back towards the toppled shelves as the other two escaped outside, moving in with his guns drawn. He knew there was no way Creed was down for the count, even if LeBeau had broken a few of his bones. The feral was biding time, waiting to spring.

                Deadpool shot into the pile, gauging his approximate position, waiting to hear a howl or a screech, but there was no sound. “You done _fucked_ _up_ , this time.” He spat, firing again, “Now I _know_ it’s in the villain handbook that you gotta creep on the good guy’s main squeeze. I get that, it’s a classic. And it’s totally part of your sick serial killer M.O. But you see, the thing is, you fucked around with _my_ main squeeze. And I got a _thing_ about people who do the shit you do, Victor. A thing that makes me go all funny and hazy and loose with the bullets. You know what I’m saying, you mangy sack of shit? DO YOU KNOW WHAT I’M SAYING!?!”

                The shelves shivered and then exploded as Creed came roaring to his feet again, all claws and fangs, ready to maul whatever he could get his hands on.

                Wade was more than ready for him, emptying one of his gun clips into the man at close range before Creed forced him back, full of holes but still coming strong, eyes wide and gleaming, bloody fangs and claws bared.

                Sabretooth fell on him, raking his claws across Wade’s chest, opening large bloody wounds and setting his teeth deep into the man’s neck. Wilson howled in pain, feeling momentary numbness wash over him. He grabbed his sword from his back and drove it through Creed, who screamed and fell aside.

                Both were mortally injured, but the thing about pitting two mutants with intense healing factors against one another, is that the fight can go on for ages before anyone “falls” long enough to declare a winner.

                “Go bellyache to someone else, Deadpool…” Creed foamed, managing to pull the katana free from his flesh, tossing it into the wreckage of the store behind him as Wilson was picking himself up out of the puddle of his own blood. “If it weren’t for you running yer mouth all those years ago, Wolverine would be where he belongs!”

                “News flash,” Wade replied, grabbing his fallen gun and opening fire again, causing Victor to take shelter. “Whether I had a chat with him or not, Logan was always gonna leave you. You know why? _Because he’s not a piece of shit like you!”_

                He paused to reload his clip, but Victor had suddenly lifted a wide shelf and sent it hurling at him. Wade caught it in the head and he and shelf went flying out the window, crashing into the parking lot where Remy, Peter, Logan and Storm were waiting.

                Wade’s head was barely attached to his neck, and for the moment he was down for the count. Peter shouted for him and tried to rush to his aid, but Remy hastily shoved him back against the car, moving forward as Creed charged out of the battered shell of the shop.

                Gambit tossed several cards at Creed, all which exploded on contact, ripping at the man’s flesh, filling the damp air with the smell of burnt skin. But the wounds only slowed Sabretooth, and he continued to charge, forcing Remy to counter to the attack with his staff.

                “Storm! Get dem outta here!” he shouted, doing his best to force Victor back and stay out of range of his claws, but the incensed feral was not so easily contained.

                He was answered by a bolt of lightning that crackled past him and struck Creed squarely in the chest, putting him on the ground in a smoking heap. “Of the two of us,” the woman spoke, coming to his side, “which is the seasoned X-Man?”

                “Touché.”

                Above them, the sound of the SHIELD helicopters was moving in lower, and they were suddenly doused in bright spot light, making them wince.

                “PUT YOUR WEAPONS DOWN AND STAND ASIDE!” someone shouted through a megaphone from above.

                _“Are you fucking kidding me?”_ Logan muttered from his place in the car. He dragged Peter closer, glad for the roof over the pumps which hid them from direct view. He yanked himself closer, trying not to be thrown off my looking into his own face as he spoke urgently to Peter, “We gotta end this now, before things get confused. Not risking one of your SHIELD pals getting trigger happy with my people out there.”

                “And how do you propose we do that?” Peter muttered in response, looking over his own battered figure. “You and I are a mess…” he looked back at Sabretooth with a shudder. “I had no idea you and Sabretooth were ex’s…he’s not over you. Obviously.”

                The Logan inside Peter’s body cringed, “We’re not ex’s. Creed’s my half-brother.”

                He watched the color drain out of his own face. “Your…what?”

                “Still think my life is glamourous, kid?”

                Peter choked, then gagged and then wretched bile on the pavement, and Logan didn’t begrudge him the reaction, patting him on the back. “Easy there sport, get it all up…”

                “ _Oh God Oh God Oh God…!”_

                There was stirring from the backseat then, and both men glanced back to see that Mesmero had apparently regained consciousness, struggling in the webbing that confined him.

                Logan grunted and reached back, dragging the man forward and shaking him. “FIX THIS!” he bellowed.

                Mesmero glanced from one man to the other and then started to laugh, the sound ringing more insane than usual. “Oh this is a treat! Look at you two, you look a miserable as I am!”

                “Right now, _chuckles_ or you’re gonna be laughing out the other side of your face!” Logan warned.

                Mesmero looked at him with blood shot, swollen eyes, “What can you do, Wolverine? Web me up some more?”

                “Actually,” Peter snarled, unsheathing Logan’s claws and holding them dangerously against the telepath’s throat. “I figured _I_ would do the honors.”

                “You wouldn’t…” he gulped.

                Peter pressed against him harder, drawing a faint line of blood. “Try me.”

               

                Outside, the agents had landed and were now moving in, all heavily armed, surrounding them. Remy and Ororo stood nervously in the white hot spotlight, next to Wade, who was still pulling himself together.

                “What did I miss…?” Deadpool muttered underneath them.

                Gambit bent to help him up, hearing the click of guns being trained on him.

                “Everyone stay where you are!” one of the agents shouted.

                Ororo glared them down, the air around her churning, “I don’t like this. We’ve done nothing wrong.”

                “Right now they just nervous about one of us going off,” Remy answered, glancing worriedly back at the car, unsure of how Logan and Peter were. “To dem we just as dangerous as Creed.”

                They were being ushered to move further back from Sabretooth, orders being barked at them to keep their hands up and comply.

                In the growing swell of noise they almost didn’t hear Victor growl softly.

                “Heads up!” Wade yelped, grabbing his own as he attempted to keep it in place. Storm and Gambit looked back in surprise and made to defend themselves, only to have Victor charge through the surrounding body of agents, hurling them in their path.

                Neither Mutant could get a clear shot at their attacker, and quickly paid the price. Remy attempted to bring the man down with his staff again, but Creed used the force against him, ripping the pole from his hands and casting it aside before bodily flinging the other man away. Gambit crashed into the pillar beside the pump and went down with a groan.

                Storm stepped in quickly, striking at Sabretooth hard and fast. She was able to land several powerful blows across the man’s back and torso before he turned on her, foaming and wild eyed and clawed at her. He caught her arm, which yielded a small spray of blood, but the woman was not put off so easily.

                As the man reached for her again she grabbed his wrist and jolted him with a surge of lightning that rippled through her fingers tips. Creed screamed as he was wracked with a t least five hundred volts of electricity.

                If she had been able to hold him just a moment longer, she would have put him on the ground. But suddenly Agents were yelling at her to stand down.

                Storm clenched her jaw and flicked her gaze in their direction, eyes glowing bright white and pupil-less as she was consumed by her powers.

                “STAND DOWN! I REPEAT STAND DOWN!”

                “Don’t get in my way,” she warned them, her voice echoing through the crackle of the lightning that surrounded her. “I’m trying to—“

                Someone fired something at them, and suddenly heavy smoke smothered the air around her. Storm fell away, coughing and choking, her concentration broken. Wade was shouting at the agents, cursing them for their interference.

                In the confusion, Storm tried to blow away the smoke, only to see Creed lung at her. She raised her hands to defend herself, but he was too fast and too close. The feral fell upon her, his fangs sinking deep into her shoulder.

                Storm screamed as he drove her to the ground, pain lancing up her arm and into her neck. But she managed to get her knee up beneath him and started pounding away at him, wounding him enough to finally force him back again.

                She laid on the pavement, bloodied and winded, unsure if she could keep him back. Her left arm was limp and she was unable to make it obey her. Creed was looking at her without any human recognition, taken over entirely by the animal inside him, his mouth smeared with her blood. The Agents fired at him again and again, but nothing brought him down. They were wasting their time.

                Several attempted to rush him, but he swatted them away like flies. There was blood in the air and he was going to finish what he had started…

                He lunged, but this time was knocked aside by another force, which came at him at a low, hard run, claws fully extended. They drove through Creed and rammed him back, stabbing and hacking until the larger man rolled away, bloody and winded.

                Logan stood there, flecked with blood and breathing hard, and Storm knew without asking that he was himself again. “You don’t know when to quit do you?” Wolverine panted.

                Creed just laughed that cold, familiar grating laugh of his, the rattle of which was worse with his injuries, though he was already healing.

                “There you are…” he chuckled, getting to his feet.

                “Stay down,” Logan warned. “Or I’ll put you down.”

                “You can certainly try, runt…”

                He moved forward, and Logan drew back, but retained his defensive position between Creed and his downed lovers.

                “Come at me then. Give me yer best shot!” Victor barked, drawing himself into a leap.

                “PETER NOW!”

                Creed was already in motion, too late to turn away. Logan side-stepped him, allowing Peter, who was still safely perched at the edge of the car, to fire off a large web, which caught Creed directly in the face. It covered his whole head, smothering him as he fell to the ground. He clawed at the sticky substance that blinded him, but Logan was already on top of him, sinking his claws deep into his back and then his shoulders, and finally his legs.

                Creed was rendered motionless by his injuries, his own healing factor struggling to catch up with the wounds. Wolverine cut the webbing from the man’s face as he turned him over, claws thrust dangerously beneath his throat. “You come near them, or me, from now on and this is what you get. Do we understand each other?”

                “Stand down, Wolverine.”

                Logan looked up to see another figure emerge from the resting helicopter, a man in a black trench coat with an eyepatch, and a heavy, commanding footstep.

                The Mutant recognized him only vaguely, his scent ringing something familiar in the in the back of his mind. But before he could reach him, Deadpool was beside him, “Hey, Nick, I gotta say pal, you’re timing on this could _really_ have been better—“

                The dark man glared at the masked man with vague annoyance. “I don’t believe I was speaking to you.”

                “Ouch. Burn.”

                “Fury!” Peter called from the car, attempting to limp his way over to them. Wade was quick to assist him, lifting him easily to avoid putting further strain on his injured knee. “Wait, please, you gotta call these guys off. The X-men aren’t a threat.”

                “Currently,” Fury answered.

                Logan moved back to Storm, checking her injuries. The woman clung to him hard for a moment, then let him help her to her feet as they made to check on their other lover, who was picking himself off the pavement as well.

                “Why wasn’t I called in on this matter sooner?” the head of SHILED asked, looking hard at Peter.

                “I thought I could handle it, sir.”

                “Regardless,” he answered, glancing down at Sabretooth before turning his gaze back to the car, where the other agents were removing a battered and dazed looking Mesmero from the back seat. “I need you to keep me in the loop on these things. We’ve been looking all over for Mesmero since the incident in Manhattan. If I had known you were tag-teaming with the X-Men…”

                “Noted, sir. We’ll make sure to give you a call next time.” Peter said, hoping to dismiss the subject for now.

                Fury looked at him skeptically, then slowly turned away. “You can give me full details later, let’s get the lot of you patched up first.” he added before shouting for his agents to finish rounding up the downed villains. Creed was restrained heavily with thick cuffs around his wrists and ankles as well as his neck. It took three agents to get the large feral onto a stretcher, and loaded into waiting transport.

                Logan bristled, “Where are you taking him?”

                Fury looked at him curiously. “Someplace you won’t have to deal with him for awhile.” He noted the deeply suspicious look that the dark haired man gave him and added, a bit more sincerely. “We aren’t Weapon X. He’ll be treated humanely, and with as much care as possible. But we aren’t going to go easy on him.”

                “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

                “Everyone okay?” Peter asked, returning his attention to battered Mutants.

                “Nothing dat can’t be fixed,” Remy replied, helping to cover Ororo’s wound as she leaned against him for support. “Just glad to see you in your own skin again.” He added.

                “You can say that again,” Wade grinned before kissing Peter adoringly, not caring that they had an audience. “I’m sorry we didn’t get here sooner…”

                Peter just nodded and hugged him hard. There would be time to talk about it all, but now wasn’t it. He was exhausted, and his mind felt like sludge from all it had been through in the last few hours. Processing all this would probably take him days. All he wanted now was to get his leg looked at, eat some pain pills and have a long, _long_ nap.

 

***

 

                A few hours later, he was lying on a bed inside the SHIELD helocarrier’s medical bay. His knee had been examined, braced and mended to the best of their ability. He’d have to be off it for a few more days yet, but they anticipated that he would be back to wall crawling very soon.

                Wade was right beside him, curled close and tight around him, seemingly afraid to let him out of his sight. Peter didn’t object…this experience had left him somewhat shaken, especially dealing with Creed. And the circumstances being what they were just made the whole ordeal seem that much more surreal. After all, this body, _his_ body showed no signs of that trauma or abuse. It bore scars and bruises from a completely different encounter, one he only heard about second hand. The whole thing was enough to make a person disassociate entirely.

                But Peter just clung to Wade and tried to put it all neatly in the back of his mind for now, to be processed piece by piece later. He was simply too exhausted to do anything else.

                “Doing alright?” Wilson asked.

                “Think so,” Peter answered groggily. “I don’t quite know what to make of it all, actually. Especially what happened with Sabretooth…” he shivered and nuzzled closer to Wade, who tightened his grip around him reflexively. “I was so stupid. I walked right into that whole mess and I never had any idea…”

                “Not your fault, baby.”

                “Yeah it was.”

                “ _No_.” Wade insisted firmly. “You did nothing wrong. Creed is a fucking _bastard_. He’s the best there is at making his victims feel like they deserve what he does to them, and if he can’t do that, he terrorizes them into it. I’m just…glad you’re not hurt worse.” He hid his face in Peter’s hair. “I don’t want you to go through this…”

                Peter hugged and kissed him hard. He knew that Wade had endured some awful things in his youth, things that even Peter could only guess at. “I’ll be okay. I’ve got you, don’t I?”

                Wade nodded and kissed him. “Always babe.”

                They said nothing for a moment and just held each other. Then finally Peter forced himself from the sheltered nook of Wade’s arms. “I need to talk to Logan about something. Are they still here?”

                Wilson nodded, “I’ll get ‘im. Sit tight.”

                A few minutes later, Logan appeared in the threshold, while Wade hung back. Peter looked at the short, thick man with hooded eyes and a lazy smile. It was great to be looking at the man from a distance again.

                “How you holdin’ up?” Wolverine asked.

                “Better now. And you?”

                The other man rolled his broad shoulders. “Same as always.”

                “Storm and Gambit…they’re okay?”

                “Ro will be in a sling for a little while, but Beast can help with that once we get back home. If Fury ever decides to stop talking our heads off and playing twenty questions.”

                “Good luck with that,” Peter chuckled.

                Logan moved a little further into the room, hands shoved into his pockets. “I’m real sorry you got tangled up with Creed. I wouldn’t wish him on anyone.”

                “Yeah…” Peter mumbled. “I had no idea…your own brother. That’s so…so awful.”

                “It is. But you’ll shake it off. You’re a tough kid.” He offered him a slim smile. “I’m proud of you Peter.”

                “What?”

                “You’ve got a lot of options, you know. You didn’t have to choose this path, but you did. That says a lot about you. Good things. Maybe I didn’t give ya enough credit before. Hard for a guy like me, who’s been running around so long to see things in a different light sometimes. So…thanks for that.”

                Peter grinned stupidly, “Oh my God…Wolverine is _thanking me_. I’m…the coolest.”

                Logan laughed. “Yeah. You are web-head.” He ruffled his hair lightly and patted his shoulder. “Sleep it off. If you ever need to talk about what went down…you know where Westchester is.”

                “Wait!” Peter gasped then, fighting the drowsy effects of his sedative. He grabbed Logan’s wrist, tugging him back. “Something I needed to tell you…about Jean…”

                “Jean?”

                “Something happened when I was there…I can’t really say what. There’s something off about her…something that feels dangerous.”

                Wolverine said nothing, gazing at the man with a grim expression on his face. “Dangerous how, Pete?”

                “Dunno…but she was reaching out to you…just be careful.” His eyes dropped further and he seemed to fade. Logan tossed the blanket over him and lingered for a moment before quietly exiting the room to find Deadpool waiting for him.

                “You two kiss and make up?” the red suited man asked with a smile.

                “Whatever. Take care of him, Wilson. Try not to let him get into too much trouble, if you can help it.”

                “Naturally.” Wade replied. He raised an eyebrow. “You gonna be okay?”

                “Sure.”

                Wade leaned in and got his arms around the smaller man, pressing a kiss to his cheek even though Logan squirmed. “Bring it in, snuggle cousin. You know uncle Wade’s here for ya, just like old times.”

                “Ugh, get off me…”

                “You love me.”

                “I _tolerate_ you.”

                “Same thing.” He grinned. “It’s good to have you back, Wolverine. No one can quite replace the crusty old bub that we know and love.”

                Logan nodded, “For once Wilson, I have to agree.”

 

 

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